Stranger Than You Dreamt It
by Myshawolf
Summary: AU of Masquerade. A powerful feud has re erupted in Paris, France. Holmes and Lestrade race to find the truth before another body is added to the pile. Rated for Violence and some adult themes. I added the ending finally! Sorry guys!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Okay just for clarification, this is the original story idea for my storyMasquerade. However, as a hopeless romantic, I changed Erika's character alot.. Masquerade is a bit true to the Phantom storyline, but this is my original ideas for Erika and her brood. In it Ruelle is a bit more cunning and the fued is a lot more deadlier. Warning: This is a much dark story. There are sexual situations and violence. Okay you all have been efficiently warned. So I DON'T want to hear it later or I'll sic Nightmare on you. Other than that, criticism is most welcomed. I don't own any of the songs in this fic they come from the following two musicals, Cabaret and Chicago. I DON"T OWN THEM! But buy the soundtracks. They rock. Enjoy.

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 1- The Drop Heard Around the World

Fenwick walked into the smoky club. He smiled; it was great to be home. The Parisian criminal world was one of the few places where one could easily buy cigarettes and even smoke without fear. Fenwick waved to a few contacts he knew as he joined them. Maybe they would know something about this mystery man who was challenging his master's hold in Paris. True, Moriarty was busy trying to bring New London to its knees, but they couldn't afford to lose the Paris Underworld to some shadowy upstart.

Fenwick pulled out a chair and graciously accepted an offered cigarette. As he puffed, he looked over the crowd. At the table next to him sat a handsome young man dressed in very fine clothes. Fenwick blew out the smoke. He was obviously one of the few aristocrats left in Paris. Fenwick discreetly leaned forward to see the crest on his shirt and smirked. A de Chagny it seemed -- must be the younger brother. Everyone in the Underworld knew the de Chagnies since they were the biggest investors in the sale of illegal cigarettes.

Fenwick was about to ponder this point for a bit longer when the band began to play a fast jazz number. He turned his attention to the cleared off dance floor. Several pretty young girls dressed in very short flapper-style dresses danced around seductively. Fenwick grinned as a pretty blonde winked at him. That was another reason why he missed Paris. The women weren't picky as long as you had power. Suddenly they all dropped to the floor as a gorgeous curly haired brunette began to sing. Her dress was a deep sapphire color which matched her eyes.

_Come on, babe  
Why don't we paint the town?  
And all that jazz _

I'm gonna rouge my knees  
And roll my stockings down  
And all that jazz

_Start the car  
I know a whoopee spot  
Where the gin is cold  
But the piano's hot  
It's just a noisy hall  
Where there's a nightly brawl  
And all that jazz!_

Fenwick watched as she moved very slowly almost deliberately. He could easily tell how long her legs were and how toned they were. Her voice was low, husky and very enticing. Normally the clubs were loud and noise and yet as soon as she sang the place was quiet.

_Slick your hair  
And wear your buckle shoes  
And all that jazz _

I hear that father dip  
Is gonna blow the blues  
and all that jazz

Hold on, hon  
We're gonna bunny hug  
I bought some aspirin  
Down at United Drug  
In case you shake apart  
And want a brand new start  
To do that jazz!

The girl continued her slow yet seductive dance around the floor as her eyes wept over the crowd. As her eyes passed over his table, Fenwick attempted to sit taller in order to look appetizing to the young singer. However, her eyes settled on the table next him. More importantly on the young de Chagny who began to preen. Fenwick glared at him.

_It's just a noisy hall  
Where there's a nightly brawl  
And all that jazz _

_Find a flask  
We're playing fast and loose  
And all that jazz _

Right up here  
Is where I store the juice  
And all that jazz

Come on, babe  
We're gonna brush the sky  
I betcha Lucky Lindy  
Never flew so high  
'Cause in the stratosphere  
How could he lend an ear  
To all that jazz?

The singer continued to dance slowly making her way to the table. Along the way she flirted with different men. Fenwick watched as the young man shakily reached for his drink and gulped some down. Fenwick looked back at the singer. He was obviously inexperienced. Maybe Fenwick could offer his services to her after she tired of the boy.

_Oh, you're gonna see your sheba  
Shimmy shake  
And all that jazz _

Oh, she's gonna shimmy till her garters  
break  
And all that jazz Show her where to park her girdle  
Oh, her mother's blood'd curdle  
If she'd hear  
Her baby's queer  
For all that jazz! C'mon babe  
Why don't we paint the town?  
And all that jazz

I'm gonna rouge my knees  
And roll my stockings down  
And all that jazz

The singer gracefully slipped on to the table crossing her exposed legs as she sang to the boy. She plucked his glass from his hands and took a sip in a way designed to speed up a man's heart.

_Start the car  
I know a whoopee spot  
Where the gin is cold  
But the piano's hot  
It's just a noisy hall  
Where there's a nightly brawl  
And all that jazz! Oh, you're gonna see your sheba  
Shimmy shake  
And all that jazz_

Calmly she pressed the glass to her throat and ran in down. With a smile she dipped a finger in the drink causing it to fizz slightly and touched it to the boy's lips. Hesitantly he licked it before she handed him his drink and returned to the floor singing. The boy watched her entranced before downing the rest of his drink. The girl had a predatory smile on her face as she watched the drink disappear.

_Oh, she's gonna shimmy till her garters  
break _

And all that jazz

Show her where to park her girdle  
Oh, her mother's blood'd curdle  
If she'd hear  
Her baby's queer  
For all that jazz!

Fenwick went back to watching the girl dance. There was a new fire in her eyes as she moved. Soon there was a musical break. As the instruments played, a choking sound caught Fenwick's attention. He glared at the next table and smirked to see the de Chagny boy choking on his drink. A sick part of Fenwick was glad to see the boy get his just desserts for stealing the singer's attention. The singer sang out joyously.

_Oh, I'm no one's wife  
But, oh, I love my life  
And all that jazz!_

Soon the boy began coughing up blood. Several patrons jumped up in alarm as the boy collapsed to the ground choking on his own blood. Fenwick looked back up to see several dancers had stopped to watch the show. The brunette smiled maliciously as she retreated backstage. Fenwick shrugged it off. She must be used to people dying in the club.

Fenwick looked back as the crowd gathered around the dead de Chagny. From the whispering in the crowd, Fenwick knew they were scared. After all no one cared to defy the de Chagnies, let alone kill one. Heads were going to roll.

---------------------

Sherlock was finishing listening to the news when he heard Lestrade's steps coming up to the apartment. They were followed by a set he didn't know. Holmes listened closely to the pattern and slowly drew a picture of this new visitor. The visitor was about six feet tall with a medium build and quite possibly male.

Holmes was hardly surprised when the Inspector opened the door to let in a tall blonde-haired man. His brown eyes surveyed the room before falling on Holmes. His eye expressed surprise, and Holmes knew it was from how young he looked. Many people thought it quite logical that when he was brought back to life it should have been as an older man. At times, Holmes found that people rarely took him seriously because he looked so young. It was hard when he tried giving older people like Grayson advice.

Holmes bit back a sigh and continued to look over his visitor. He was obviously from money, considering the state of his clothes and the family crest on them. They were brand new and were what passed as high fashion on the Continental Europe. Holmes noticed that he was tidy and neat in every way, which showed he cared what he was presenting to the world. Holmes mused that it was like a mask and wondered what he hid underneath.

Holmes put on a composed smile and stated, "Welcome to my home, Count de Chagny. I trust your journey from Europe was comfortable."

The Count seemed taken back, "It is what they say. You truly know everything, Monsieur Holmes. I am Count Ruelle de Chagny. "

Holmes looked over to see the proud expression on Lestrade and felt his own smile become genuine, "Your family's crest hasn't changed in over two hundred years. I remember reading the accounts of the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny and the strange affairs surrounding the Parisian Opera House."

The Count visibly stiffened. "Yes, the Phantom of the Opera. An affair I would rather have forgotten."

"Understandably so. And yet this affair still rubs you raw," Holmes observed

"Yes, it does. It is a matter that was never settled."

Lestrade spoke up quickly, sensing the Count's irritation with Holmes. "The Count has come to enlist your services, Holmes."

"Really? With what?" Holmes queried, slightly intrigued.

The Count relaxed and sent a charming smile to Lestrade, "Merci, Mademoiselle, merci."

Holmes frowned as Lestrade's cheek took on a slightly pink color and cleared his throat, bringing the Count's attention back to him, "The case, Monsieur?"

The Count turned to Holmes. Holmes stiffened at the look in his eyes. Anger flashed for a brief moment before those gray eyes became cold. The Count took a deep breath and began to speak like he would to a servant. "My brother with some of his friends went to a club on the Rue Morgue called the 'Rose et Masque Rouges'. My family has visited the club several times without incident."

Holmes nodded. "And this time there was."

"Oui. My brother had ordered a drink. While he was distracted by the club's singer, someone poisoned his drink," the Count recounted coldly without any emotion, "He died after the singer finished her song, choking on his own blood."

Holmes suppressed a wince. He had seen people die in different ways but never one so gruesome and hopeless. He glanced at Lestrade who did wince. A look of sorrow came over her features for the poor young man who had died. Holmes looked back to the brother. His face was devoid of emotions. Holmes brought his attention back to the count.

"Isn't this the Surete's case?" Holmes asked nonchalantly.

"Oui, but they have been at a standstill for a week now," the Count sniffed. "I have come to commission your help, M'sieur Holmes. Money is no object."

"Fine," Holmes smirked, "700 credits a day."

Lestrade looked at Holmes in shock while the Count merely nodded his agreement, "We will leave for Paris in the morning."

"That will be fine." Holmes nodded back.

Lestrade was about to speak up when the Count gave her another smile as he took her hand. "Inspector, it was wonderful meeting you. I hope you will accompany M'sieur Holmes on this case. After all, as a New Scotland Yard officer you will lend some legitimacy to M'sieur Holmes' presence."

Lestrade began to stammer excuses until she finally agreed. When the Count kissed her hand, the pink tinge returned to her cheeks. Sherlock tried his damndest not to get angry or show any sign that he cared. The Count said his goodbyes and left Baker Street.

Lestrade turned back to face Holmes, who had returned to his computer. It was times like these when Lestrade wondered if he even knew if she was there. Brushing a stray strand out of her eyes, she walked over to his side. Taking a breath, she reminded herself that they had a professional relationship.

"Well?" Lestrade asked, breaking Holmes' thoughts.

Holmes flipped through the archives of news clippings until he reached the one about Raoul de Chagny's death. He felt Beth's eyes quickly scan it for anything the Count had left out. Holmes took a breath and her scent filled his nostrils. That was something he took comfort in -- that she would always be there. Turning, he looked at her as she read the article.

"What a way to go," Lestrade stated softly. "It was too fast to stop it and the poison was unidentified."

"By the authorities, but someone knows," Holmes remarked. "Someone knew what it could do and how to use it."

"Where do we start looking?"

"Elementary, my dear Lestrade," Holmes replied. "We go to Paris and to this club. Someone must have seen something odd."

"So we go to Paris," Lestrade sighed. "I guess it won't be so bad."

"I think we should check out the Count's background first. Don't you find it odd that he showed no emotions towards his brother's demise?"

"He was probably still in shock. I mean the kid was only twenty-one. It's hard losing a younger sibling, and so fast too."

"But still, he wasn't even regretful. Just very cold," Holmes pointed out.

"You have been described the same way," Lestrade tossed back at him. "He came to us for help."

"What better way to clear himself of any guilt. We can't rule out any possible suspects, Lestrade."

"Fine. But I'll bet you anything the Count is innocent in this."

"Fine," Holmes smirked. "The winner gets whatever they want from the loser. Is it a deal?"

"Deal," Lestrade agreed. "Then I have to go pack. Goodnight, Holmes."

Holmes watched her leave and waited until her hovercraft pulled away. Letting out his breath, he finally relaxed. It might be a new century but some things never seem to change. Lestrade, for all her street smarts, had much to learn. Holmes had seen rogues work on the affections of young ladies and the heartbreak that inevitably occurs.

Despite having a young body, he still retained over seventy years of memories. Ladies still blush when a handsome man pays them attention but never when a smart man does. It seems Lestrade was no different. He only hoped that the de Chagnies' reputation as womanizers had changed over the years, for Lestrade's sake.


	2. Chapter 2

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 2- Enter the Pawns

Moriarty stared around the busy night club around him several criminal family swarmed making deals and hits. Moriarty feeling the need to move began to stride through the club. He was here for on purpose and one purpose alone. It seemed he had two threats to his power in The Parisian Under world. The first one was the De Chagny Crime family.

Moriarty scowled. He never liked nobles, they were arrogant and cocky. Especially with orders, they treated orders like requests. If he didn't need the cigarette trade, he would cut them loose. He never liked the older boy, Ruelle. The younger brother was more pliant. At least the younger brother was eager to please and worked without question. Moriarty wanted to strangle the older brother when Ruelle would be condescending to him. But the De Chagnies were small potatoes compared to the other threat.

Moriarty moved through the crowd looking around as his mind pondered the other threat. Who in the Devil's name was the Phantom? He appeared out of no where one day and began sawing seeds of doubt in the Criminal Underground. Some the Heists Moriarty attempted, he pulled off. A few of Moriarty's future targets were snatched up by this man. Moriarty longed to put him in his place. He worked too long and hard to become the Napoleon of Crime to lose it now.

Even now as he glared at the crowd he was searching for the Phantom. A man, the Underworld whispers, that like him keeps coming back from the dead. They also whispered about the deadly feud that was wedged between the Phantom and the De Chagny. A feud everyone thought the Count finished six years ago when Erik Noir V was killed and his young daughter disappeared also rumored to be dead.

Moriarty was not amused and his displeasure was going to be directed at the Count. As Moriarty thought of different ways to torture the Count, A figure caught his attention. A beautiful woman with long curly brown hair stood up from a table. What made her stand out were her clothes. They resembled that of a Victorian Gentleman's. Gracefully she got up from the table and walked towards the back stage area. Moriarty watched her closely. She looked familiar.

The woman glanced over her shoulder. Moriarty fell into her sapphire eyes when their eyes met. In a flash they were gone as she disappeared back stage. Moriarty suddenly realized where he met her. She was that cat burglar, the one that worked for the Phantom. With a new sense of purpose he shoved his way through the crowd trying to reach her.

Moriarty stared down the dimly lighted hall way. She went this way he knew she did. Growling he yanked open every door he could looking for her. As he reached the last door, the smell of jasmine assailed his nostrils. Smirking, he tried the last door.

A pair of arms encircled his neck as a husky voice whispered in his ears, "Looking for me?"

Moriarty turned to face the dark beauty and grabbing her wrist removed her arms, "Yes I am."

"I see you like to play rough." The woman purred with a smile, "I can play rough too."

Moriarty glared at her, "I have heard that offer thousands of times."

The woman merely smiled as she pressed against him, "I bet you do. But how many of them have beaten you even at your own game."

Moriarty tightened his grip, "Your boss will not always win."

The woman merely smirked before pulling him into a kiss. Moriarty was stunned, no other Underground woman dared to do this. They made offers but never had any kissed him, no one but this woman. Giving into the kiss, he began to respond.

Suddenly she pulled him with her as they tumbled onto a bed with black sheets. Moriarty pulled away to look at her face. The sapphire eyes were slits with their color glowing up at him. Her chocolate hair was a mass of curls that surrounded her body. She whispered something to him. James didn't hear it over the roar of his own heart. Instead he leaned down to kiss her.

Moriarty sat up in a cold sweat. No, he almost had her. His fist clenched in anger and frustration. He nearly had the chit. After taking a few deep breaths, he reined his emotions in. He would find her as he'd sworn. Knowing sleep would elude him for the rest of the night, he moved, only to make another discovery. The sheets now needed to be washed.

Growling, Moriarty jumped from his bed and hastily began to dress. He had no time for erotic dreams or mysterious women. Right now, he needed to take back his empire. He refused to lose control over Paris. He had organized them and made it a very formidable network of thieves, murderers, and other rogues. There was no way some French upstart was taking that away. He was the Napoleon of Crime.

Throwing open the door of his room, he stalked into the main living room. Fenwick cowered back at the look on his master's face. Every morning he was like this, since the botched kidnapping, and Fenwick had learned to stay away. He cautiously watched as Moriarty walked over the computer terminal and began his research.

Knowing his news would upset him even more, Fenwick silently tried to sneak out. He really didn't want a lecture this early in the morning. Just as he reached his room, Moriarty called him back in a deceptively calm voice. Fenwick squared his shoulders and headed back.

"Yes, Master?" he asked.

"Did you find out anything of interest on our little upstart called the Phantom?" Moriarty asked calmly.

"Nothing we don't already know, except the de Chagnies have offered a reward for information on him."

"It seems we aren't the only ones looking for him," Moriarty mused as he flipped through the crime reports.

Fenwick took a breath and decided to get it over with, "No, we are not. It seems the Count de Chagny has brought Holmes to Paris to solve his brother's murder."

There was silence which made Fenwick nervous. Moriarty pinned him with a glare like Fenwick was responsible. Fenwick resisted the urge to put his hands up to defend himself. He had learned the best way to deal with Moriarty was to face him head on.

Moriarty growled internally. That filthy aristocrat was asking for a death wish. He could destroy everything by bringing Holmes here and investigating a club that was a hub of the Underworld. Slamming his fist into the desk, Moriarty concocted several ways to kill the Count and his archnemesis.

"I'll kill them both," Moriarty vowed. "I will make sure neither one wastes the air with their pathetic breathing. That miserable aristocrat! He couldn't sit back and wait like everyone told him to. He had to bring in Holmes."

Fenwick flinched as Moriarty ranted to no one in particular. He knew it was going to be a long day already. Fenwick swore to go back to the club and see if he could maybe persuade the cute singer to take pity on him. He hid his smile and decided that would be what he would do.

-------------------

Holmes helped Lestrade out of the hover cab outside The Surete's Headquarters. He looked over the old building. He smiled as he recognized Garnier's designs. Granted it wasn't as grand as the Opera House, which he was saddened to learn was now abandoned.

Lestrade led him up the stairs and into the main office areas. Holmes admired her for a moment but shaking his head. He needed to get over this. She would never see him more than a partner. Reluctantly he followed her to a desk marked Leroux.

Leroux was an older man with graying hair and sharp hazel eyes. He reminded Holmes of a wolf watching out for predators or prey, whichever crossed his path first. Leroux motioned for them to wait while he argued with someone on the phone. He looked frazzled yet ready for anything. When he finally hung up, he flashed them a smile.

"Welcome to hell. How may I help you?" He joked.

"I'm Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard, and this is my partner, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," Lestrade introduced, "We were told to come to you, Inspector Leroux."

Leroux nodded, "Oui. I'm to help you with the de Chagny case, per orders of the Count himself."

"Does he have a say in who gets the case?" Holmes queried

"Not directly. He has enough friends to get what he wants when he wants it." Leroux sighed as he pulled out the folder, "I can't say I'm sad to see this case go. The kid brother went fast enough that he was in very little pain, but it was very messy."

"Any witnesses?" asked Lestrade as she looked over the file with him and Holmes.

"A whole clubful, but none that are reliable. The Rose et Masque Rouges is a well known place for members of the Underworld to go and discuss deals." Leroux sighed as he spread out the pictures, "Trying to track down the witnesses is hard."

Lestrade nodded as she scanned each photo, "I can imagine. The poor guy never had a chance."

"Especially with his last name. De Chagny is not a well-liked name."

Holmes looked up at this point, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, the older brother got off a murder charge about six years ago. He was accused of killing his lover's father right in front of her." Leroux shrugged, "When the poor girl disappeared after her father's burial, the magistrate dropped the charges because there wasn't a witness."

Holmes' eyes twinkled, "Can we look at that case as well? It may provide a clue."

Leroux seemed caught off guard by the question, "Um… certainly. I'll get it from the archives. Excuse me for a moment."

Holmes waited until Leroux was gone before he whispered, "I think there is more to the Count than we were led to believe."

Lestrade seemed surprised by his statement, "Holmes, It's probably bad luck. I mean, the girl disappeared after her father's funeral. She could have killed her father and blamed the Count."

"Or she was afraid. We won't know until we read the file and check it out. I have a feeling the two cases are related," Holmes stated firmly.

"Maybe, but you shouldn't rush to judgment."

"At least I'm thinking objectively," Holmes snapped, "He is a suspect. You should wait until we have more on him before you try defending him. He could be the killer for all we know."

Lestrade growled, "I _am_ being objective. I'm just not condemning him every chance I get."

"That's because you are too dazzled by his charm to see straight and then you make mistakes. We can't make mistakes with this case or we could easily die."

"I won't get us killed. You think I'm that stupid?" Lestrade spat at him. When Holmes didn't reply immediately, Lestrade looked up at him in shock. Did he really think she was stupid? True, she wasn't on the same level as him, but still she could hold her own. Hurt surged through her body and she reacted the only way she knew how.

The slap echoed through the station. The activity didn't stop completely but everyone heard it. Holmes stared at Lestrade in shock at her actions. Lestrade glared at him coldly before turning and walking out. Holmes continued to stand there with his hand on his cheek as he watched her leave with the grace of a queen. It wasn't until Leroux returned with the case file that he snapped out of it. He nodded to the French officer before gathering the two files and leaving.

Leroux waiting until the detective was gone before he picked up the vid phone and dialed a number. A Middle Eastern man with a shaggy beard appeared on the screen. His black eyes were hard as he stared at Leroux. Leroux swallowed before he spoke.

"Bonjour, Nadir." Leroux tried to smile.

"What is it, Leroux? I'm very busy." Nadir stated quietly.

"I have news for the Phantom. Sherlock Holmes and his Yardie partner were just here. They took the de Chagny and Noir murder cases to study. It seems the Count hired them to solve his brother's murder," Leroux reported.

Nadir considered this. "I will tell him. You better make sure they don't snoop too much or there will be hell to pay."

"Of course, Khan." Leroux nodded before Nadir cut the connection. Leroux let out a breath. Why couldn't Danesh or Josef answer? At least they were friendly. Khan was scary almost as scary as the Phantom himself. Squaring his shoulder, Leroux returned to his work. Tomorrow he would arrange to meet with his New London counterparts, but right now he needed to return to his duty.

----------------------

The Phantom smiled as his finger danced along the organ's keys. The sound it produced echoed through the abandoned Opera House. This was its home, despite the Count's attempt to purge it. The Count was a fool; as long as there was a Paris there would always be a Phantom. But at least the fool was slowly learning the pain he'd caused.

It didn't regret taking the de Chagny boy from this world. The poor fool deserved it, sitting there like he owned the club. Well, now he owned a plot of land for eternity. The smile grew wider; soon the elder boy would join him. The count may have believed he'd won six years ago but he was wrong. And being wrong in this game was fatal.

The Phantom hit the key change as its thoughts flipped over to the new pawns in the game. Moriarty was one it was already acquainted with. The Phantom wondered how long until the fellow mastermind came to fight back. The Phantom smiled evilly; it intended to rule the Underworld itself. After all, what else could it do after de Chagny was dead? Fading away wasn't an option. So it had challenged Moriarty early for supremacy in the Paris Underworld. Moriarty had answered the call beautifully so far. That would be an intriguing game, as well, with Moriarty's archnemesis joining in

Sherlock Holmes would be a true threat and the obvious wildcard. With de Chagny and Moriarty, the Phantom knew what they wanted. It chuckled; it wasn't going to die so easily for either of them. But Holmes was a mystery. What did the Great Detective want? That was the real riddle. And the Phantom was determined to find out one way or another.


	3. Chapter 3

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 3- Lost Flower Spotted

Holmes slumped over the desk as he flipped through the case folder in front of him. He knew he should remain objective and emotionless, but this case made it hard. He looked at the photos of a pretty young girl who was wracked with grief as she held her father's bloody body. Her hair was pulled back, making her look younger than her nineteen years of age. What does that do to such a young mind?

He turned to the statement that was given to the police. She was very clear in her story. Her father and she were walking to the club where her father worked when the Count walked up. Erika went to greet him; then she saw the gun. Her father shoved her out of the way when the Count fired. Erik Noir V was shot five times while he protected his daughter. Erika attacked the Count after watching her father fall to the ground dying. During the struggle she was shot in the shoulder and the Count ran off.

Holmes reread the story and wondered what this does to a person. Erika was known to be very close to her father. She admired him and never argued or talked back. Holmes could tell that she loved her father by the way she'd reacted to his death. Again Holmes returned to the photo of Erika holding her father, crying. He lifted it up and stared. What does witnessing such a thing do to someone?

"The poor thing never got her justice. How does that impact someone's life?" Holmes mused out loud.

Lestrade glanced up from her spot across the room. She couldn't understand Holmes' fascination with the damn girl. She was probably in a country far, far away, feeling clever that she got away with murder. Lestrade couldn't understand how he was willing to condemn the Count, but not some girl who ran away from an investigation. She snorted from her place as she continued to read her case.

"People tend to move away and be thankful they weren't caught," Lestrade remarked off-handedly.

Holmes looked at her, "How can you say that?"

"Easy. The girl ran away. Obviously she was guilty of something," Lestrade pointed out.

"Or scared? She did witness a murder and identify the murderer, the Count. He is a man with great power and influence. Even Leroux said he has control over the police force," Holmes shot back.

"Maybe she was afraid he would expose her. Kids are capable of anything. Look at your Irregulars."

"They aren't capable of murder. Have you even read the file?"

"How can I when you're absorbed in it? You were telling me that I'm not objective. At least I'm concentrating on our current case."

"Do you even care what happened to her? I admit she could be a strong suspect for our current case, but we won't know until we know what happened to her."

"Oh, are you admitting she can now commit murder?" Lestrade snapped, "A moment ago she was a bloody saint."

"I never said that. But you think the Count is one. Why, Lestrade? Because he flirts with you?" Holmes shouted as he stood up.

"That's not it at all."

"Is it? Let me tell you something, Lestrade. Men haven't changed all that much in two hundred years. The charming ones can charm anyone they please and will. The question is, can you see or will you fall for it?"

"I'm not being sweet-talked, Holmes. How dare you think I am not capable doing my job."

"I see women haven't changed all that much either," Holmes said stiffly before walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade growled, "We are not through with this."

"Yes, we are," Holmes said finally as he threw on the Inverness and opened the door, "I'm going to see if I can find out the fate of Mademoiselle Noir. I'd ask you to come but you don't care about that case."

Holmes shut the door silently. Lestrade was hoping he would slam it to accent her bad mood. But Holmes didn't slam doors. In fact he very rarely showed emotions until the anger she just saw in his eyes. She shivered slightly and then reprimanded herself mentally for letting it bother her. It wasn't her problem that he was fascinated with some trollop that killed her parent. After all, she was an officer of the law.

And yet, there must be something in that file that would have Holmes defending her as adamantly as he did. She shifted uncomfortably, like the girl was in the room staring at her. Sighing, Lestrade walked towards Holmes' desk to look through the packet. She supposed she should look through the case. That way, the next time Holmes condemned her Lestrade could at least say she read the case.

When she reached the desk, Lestrade saw the back of the photo that Holmes was just staring at. Written along the back was December 22, 2099 Crime scene photo taken upon arrival. Lestrade slowly flipped it over and stared at it.

The first thing Lestrade saw was the blood that was everywhere. It was on the sidewalk, the body and the girl herself. Then Lestrade saw the girl. She looked so young as she clutched her father to her. Her face distorted with grief as she cried. It was heart-wrenching. She couldn't be older than nineteen. Her blue eyes were filled with tears. Lestrade could almost hear her voice crying out to her dead father.

Lestrade tried her damndest not to be moved, not to feel guilty for condemning her. But it didn't work. Here was a girl who looked like her world was destroyed; then she disappeared. Lestrade couldn't help but wonder why? Why did she run? Maybe she was wrong to come down hard on the girl.

Lestrade took a deep breath and sank down into Holmes' seat. Hesitantly she put the picture aside and began to read the file. Absently she would glance at the picture. What does this do to someone?

-----------------------

The Phantom tossed and turned in its bed of black sheets. In its mind it tried to silence the sound of gunfire and the pain in its shoulder. Frantically it fought to wake up and end the nightmare. The Phantom sat up, trying to breathe. Again, it was so real again. Every night the bullet got closer and closer to its heart. The Phantom knew one day it would hit it and end everything.

Shaking, the Phantom stared at its hand. It could still see and smell the blood. That metallic smell would never leave it alone, not even in the dark hours of the night. It arrived too late that night. Too late to save Erik, too late to stop the coward who shot Erik. It was a mistake that it would continually pay for. Even now its sanity was slowly slipping away. There was two ways to stop the nightmares, the guilt of its one mistake.

One way was to take the gun out of its case and pull the trigger. A simple way to end the pain it endured every night. Just one squeeze and everything would end. There would brief pain and then darkness. It was tempting, but if the Phantom did it then he failed.

The other way was much more satisfying. All it had to do was kill the Count de Chagny. Shooting was quick but ineffective and poison was what he would expect. Restless, the Phantom got out of bed. There must he some way to kill the creep and rid itself of these dreams. Only then could the Phantom be at peace. Only then could The Phantom rest. A smile touched its lips. Soon it would have its revenge, very soon.

--------------------

Lestrade nearly jumped when the vid phone rang in the room. She was so absorbed in the Noir case she forgot where she was. Groggily she trudged over the phone. She perked at the thought of Holmes calling to apologize. She yawned as she answered the phone.

"Yes?" she yawned.

The Count smiled charmingly. "I didn't mean to disturb your rest, Inspector."

Lestrade blushed softly. "No, not at all, Your Countship."

Ruelle chuckled softly, "Please, call me Ruelle, Inspector."

Lestrade resisted the urge to offer the same courtesy to him. She'd never given it to Sherlock, her partner for over two years now. Instead she smiled at him.

"Of course, Ruelle. What can I do for you?" Lestrade asked.

Ruelle's face became worried. "I received a card in the mail today. There was no name on it but a short message and a picture."

"What did it say?" Lestrade perked up. Maybe it was a clue.

The Count held it up. The picture was of a white mask pierced by a red rose that was losing its petals. It was a pretty picture. But Lestrade peered at it closer to delve a deeper meaning.

The Count cleared his throat gaining Lestrade's attention. "It says, 'Remember and fear it.'"

"That's it?" Lestrade pondered it. "That's odd."

"Maybe we could discuss it over dinner tomorrow at the Café Seine," Ruelle ventured carefully.

Lestrade smiled. "Of course. We will meet you there at six."

Ruelle grinned brightly. "Then I will see you then. Adieu."

"Adieu." Lestrade grinned back before hanging up. She nearly giggled. The killer was obviously toying with Ruelle and leaving clues while they did so. Holmes was going to be happy about it. She couldn't wait to tell him. Smiling, she returned to the depressing case she was reading.

---------------------

Holmes leaned against the bar casually. His usual blonde hair was gray with streaks of black. His clothes were dirtied and fit in with the rogues circulating around him. Lazily he sipped his drink, making sure he didn't make eye contact with anyone but the older female bartender who gave him a kind smile. Holmes heartily returned it as he looked over the growing crowd over by the tables.

He froze as he recognized Fenwick sitting eagerly at a table closer to the front, not too far from where he stood himself. Lounging next to Fenwick, obviously bored, was Professor James Moriarty. Holmes quickly looked away, but would look over out of the corner of his eye. As he watched a young man sat down next to him and ordered a drink.

The man chuckled, "It seems The Napoleon of Crime is determined to defend his territory."

Holmes turned and sipped his drink, "He certainly is making an appearance."

"Well, With the De Chagnies defying his orders and The Phantom nipping at his heels, He probably felt the need to show he is still in power."

"The De Chagnies? You don't mean the Count De Chagny?"

"The Very one. Damn noble feels he can sneer down at The Napoleon. He shouldn't feel so cocky now that his brother was taken out. He will be next."

"By the Napoleon of Crime? Seems a little harsh. I heard he likes to knock them down a few notches."

The Man laughed heartily, "Indeed but no, not by the Napoleon. They say The Phantom is the one who did it to avenge Erik's death."

"Oh? And why would the Phantom be concerned about that?"

The man looked at Holmes in surprise, "You must be new to Paris. Everyone knows Erik was one of the top men at gathering intelligence on any thing. His connections with the Above Ground were legendary Because of his talent. Many say he worked for The Phantom at that time. But when Erik died, The Phantom's control over the communication part of the Underground died with him. And his poor daughter went mad with grief, she did."

Holmes frowned, "I see. What happened to her?"

The man shrugged as he moved away, "She just up and disappeared. No surprise with the Count out and walking around. He even put out a hit on her. The gel probably feared for her life."

Holmes nodded as he turned that information over in his head. So everything about the Count was not as it seemed. He was hiding a lot from them. Holmes glanced back at Moriarty. Just how much was his rival capable of? And was he allied with the Phantom? Holmes continued to ponder these questions. He wished he had Lestrade here to talk to about such things. How would she have reacted to the news that he was a criminal?

Moriarty looked around, grumbling. He couldn't believe he agreed to come here with Fenwick. None of the waitresses that walked around in their short skirts were appealing to him. He couldn't even get up the energy to flirt back with them like Fenwick was. Instead he just sipped his drink and waited for the whole thing to be over with. Occasionally he would smile at an associate but otherwise he was bored, completely bored.

Suddenly the band began to play a lively number as an old man walked into the center of the floor wearing a bright yellow suit and a cane. He smiled at the audience as the waitresses finished serving their order. The man began to sing in a light German Accent.

_Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome!_ _Fremde, etranger, stranger._ _Gluklich zu sehen, je suis enchante,_ _Happy to see you, bliebe, reste, stay._ _Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome_ _Im_ _Cabaret, au Cabaret, to Cabaret_

The Man began to speak very slowly so the audience could understand him, "Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen! Guden abend. Bon soir. Good evening. Wie gehts? Comment ca va? Do you feel good? I bet you do! Ich bin euer Confrecier; je suis votre compere... I am your host, Josef Buquet."

Holmes smirked as he watched him entertain the crowd. Even Moriarty was smirking. He returned to singing.

_Und sagen_ _Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome_ _Im_ _Cabaret, au Cabaret, to Cabaret_

Josef smiled at the audience graciously, "Leave your troubles outside! So -- life is disappointing? Forget it! We have no troubles here! Here life is beautiful... The girls

are beautiful... Even the orchestra is beautiful!"

On that cue the band began to play loudly. Josef picked up his cane and began to conduct them. Holmes chuckled, as Josef danced while he did so. Holmes' spirits began to brighten considerably.

Josef grinned brightly at the audience, "You see? I told you the orchestra is beautiful! And now presenting the Cabaret Girls!"

Suddenly the waitresses ran up front. Each one struck a different pose and smiled brightly at the audience. Josef smiled at them then turn to the audience and introduced each one. Rosie was a blushing redhead who liked Lulu, another girl. Frenchie was a beautiful blonde whom the host jokingly ordered on her side. Texas was a multi-talented American brunette. Fritzie was a gorgeous ravenhaired high kicker who scared the hell out of the few waiters who passed her. And Helga was a very young blonde who was a bad girl. The girls danced around the host, who said something that caused Holmes to choke on his drink.

Josef joked, "Outside it is winter. But in here it's so hot. Every night we have to battle with the girls to keep them from taking off all their clothings. So don't go away. Who knows? Tonight we may lose the battle!"

The girl stopped dancing and sang, the chorus shaking their hips as they did so. Holmes choked slightly as Josef introduced the waiters. Holmes began to block out the music. He looked very so often at Moriarty who was sighing. He still looked slightly bored. Then Josef shouted out a name that snagged Holmes' attention.

"And finally, the toast of Paris, Fraulein Erika Daae!" Josef shouted, pointing toward the back.

"Hello, darlings!" a husky voice called out and joined everyone in singing. _Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome!_ _Fremde, etranger, stranger._ _Gluklich zu sehen, je suis enchante,_ _Happy to see you, _ _Bliebe, reste, stay!_ _Wir sagen_ _Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome_ _Im_ _Cabaret, au Cabaret, to Cabaret_


	4. Chapter 4

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 4- Double Meanings

Holmes nearly dropped his drink at the sight of the curly-haired brunette dressed in a black Chinese dress and high heels. The slit went all the way to her hip and showed off her long legs as she walked to the floor dancing as she went. Holmes followed her closely with his eyes. He'd found her. He'd found Erika Noir.

Moriarty felt his mouth go stone dry at the sight of the woman who had haunted his dreams for the past week. She smiled every so often and blew kisses to various people in the audience. He sat straighter as she looked at him. Her smile got brighter and she winked at him. Moriarty waited for her to walk towards him. He wasn't sure what he would do but he would think of something.

Then it happened. She began walking towards him. Moriarty noted that she moved with the grace of a feline. Her blue eyes sparkled at him. Moriarty fell into them, so that it took a moment to register that she'd walked past him. Before anger kicked in, he felt her slender fingers stroke his neck. He looked at her, to see her flash him a seductive smile before walking away. He tried his damnest not to watch her. Instead he closed his eyes and slowly tried to get his body under control.

When he opened them again, he received a glare from Fenwick. Moriarty growled at him. He was in no mood for a jealous lackey. Moriarty was about to get up and go after the singer when he heard a very familiar voice reach his ears. Turning slightly, he spotted the singer sitting at the bar with a drink in her hand as she listened to a gray-haired man who sounded suspiciously like Sherlock Holmes.

"Is your name Erika Noir? I couldn't hear the host too well," Holmes lied.

Erika smiled at him seductively, "No, M'sieur. My surname is Daae. But I can be this Noir if you want me to."

Holmes wasn't sure how to respond so he ignored the remark, "You look remarkably like her. Are you sure you aren't?"

Erika laughed low and huskily, "I think I would know my own identity."

Holmes decided to try another tactic. "Did you know Erik Noir V?"

Erika's smile faltered slightly but she fixed it, "Oui, Everyone here did. He was a very gentle man and a very talented musician. Our band has not been the same since he left."

Holmes waited a beat before asking his next question, "Were you here the night the de Chagny boy was murdered?"

Erika smiled again at him as she slowly crossed her legs forcing the slit to fall open. Holmes spared her legs a quick glance before looking back at her face. A soft enticing smile sat on her lips as she looked him over. Holmes swallowed and reminded himself about Lestrade waiting for him.

"Well?" Holmes prompted clicking his mind back on business.

"I was here that night, but so was half of Paris," Erika mused as she sipped her drink.

"What were you doing?" Holmes questioned.

Erika smirked as she leaned forward, "I was doing my job, singing. He was quite an eager little boy. Nearly downed his drink after I sang to him."

"About the drink? Did you see anyone touch it? Tamper with it?"

Erika sighed softly, touching Holmes's jaw line, "No, M'sieur. I didn't But then again I was awfully busy singing."

Holmes fell into her blue eyes. He shut his eyes to clear his head. When he opened them, it was to see Erika being led away by a Middle Eastern man. They smiled at each other in the way that friends do. Holmes growled to himself. He hadn't learned a single thing. Angrily, he paid for his drink and stalked out.

Moriarty smiled at how frustrated Holmes looked. It was entertaining to hear how Erika easily sidestepped his questions with simple movements and answers. However he didn't like how Holmes glanced at her legs or how Erika flirted very blatantly with him. As Erika began to approach his direction he decided to grab her wrist this time and force her to talk with him.

Suddenly Fenwick stood up and gently touched Erika's hand. Moriarty looked at him with confusion. Erika turned towards him with a questioning look in her eyes. Her companion also stopped and glared at Fenwick. However, Fenwick showed either great stupidity or great courage. Moriarty wasn't sure which.

"Mademoiselle Daae, will you share a drink with me after the show? Maybe in private?" Fenwick asked nervously.

Erika smiled softly at him and kissed his cheek, "I'm sorry, M'sieur, but no thank you."

Fenwick was in shock as he watched Erika walked way. Soon the man was in Fenwick's face, glaring Fenwick to his seat. After Fenwick sat down, the man pinned him with a glare and threatened very loudly.

"Mademoiselle Noir is not available for a drink, now or ever. She belongs to the Phantom. Remember that," he growled before walking back to Erika.

Erika glared at Nadir and stated very sarcastically, "Thank you so much, Nadir. Yes, I am my own person and can take care of myself."

Nadir merely smiled at her temper, "Orders, Erika. You know how the Phantom can be. Come, you have a show in three minutes."

"Fine." Erika sighed as Nadir led her away.

Moriarty waited until they were a ways away before turning toward Fenwick. Fenwick was slumped in his chair, looking like a child who was just spanked. He decided to thank his lackey later. Obviously the club was the Phantom's place. Moriarty wondered which one was the Phantom. He was so busy he didn't hear Josef introduce Erika until she began speaking. He turned back around to see Erika standing there in a black trenchcoat.

Moriarty watched her entranced as she spoke about her poor unsuspecting mother. She began to walk toward him. Soon she was in his lap. Moriarty stiffened up as she slowly crossed her legs revealing her bare legs. Her hand touched his cheek and brought his eyes to hers. Soon she started singing to him.

_Mama_

_Doesn't even have an inkling_

_That I'm working in a nightclub_

_In a pair of lacy pants._

_So please, sir._

_If you run into my Mama,_

_Don't reveal my indiscretion,_

_Give a working girl a chance._

As quickly as she was there, Erika was gone and shedding her trenchcoat to reveal a very sexy version of a schoolgirl's outfit. The plaid skirt skimmed her mid-thighs, and the white shirt revealed her flat stomach and generous cleavage. A glint of gold caught his eyes but he couldn't make out what it was. Moriarty felt his throat close up as she sang.

_Hush up, _

_Don't tell Mama,_

_Shush up,_

_Don't tell Mama..._

_Don't tell Mama,_

_Whatever you do._

_If you had a secret,_

_You bet I would keep it._

_I would never tell on you._

_I'm breaking every promise _

_That I gave her,_

_So won't you kindly do a girl_

_A great big favor?_

_And please, my sweet patater,_

_Keep this from the Mater_

_Though my dance _

_Is not against the law._

_You can tell my Papa, that's all right,_

_'Cause he comes in here every night,_

_But don't tell Mama what you saw!_

Erika stopped moving and placed her hands on hips as the girls joined her wearing similar outfits. She winked at the audience and continued to dance. Moriarty felt his hand itching to grab her as she danced by. He stamped it down. After all he was a gentleman.

_Mama_

_Thinks I'm on a tour of Europe,_

_With a couple of my school chums_

_And a lady chaperone._

_Mama_

_Doesn't even have an inkling_

_That I left them all in Antwerp_

_And I'm touring on my own._

_So please, sir_

_If you run into my Mama_

_Don't reveal my indiscretion._

Erika put her fingers to her lips to plead with the audience to be quiet. Moriarty shifted as he watched her move. The grace with which she moved was dazzling and made all the other dancers look awkward in comparison.

_Just leave well enough alone._

_Hush up,_

_Don't tell _

_Mama._

_Shush up,_

_Don't tell Mama;_

_Don't tell Mama_

_Whatever you do._

_If you had a secret,_

_You bet I would keep it._

Moriarty wanted to laugh at that line. Somehow every time they met, his cover was blown.. He wanted to make her pay for that. As she spun around, causing her skirt to lift a little, Moriarty decided that it could wait until after he had her. If he could -- after all, she was the Phantom's. Moriarty decided that was another reason to off the Phantom -- to free up this beauty in front of him. Wait a minute, hadn't he sworn never to let his desire for a woman influence his decisions again?

_I would never tell on you._

_You wouldn't want to get me_

_In a pickle,_

_And have her go and cut me off_

_Without a nickel._

_So let's trust one another,_

_Keep this from my mother,_

_Though I'm still as pure as mountain snow._

_You can tell my Uncle _

_Here and now_

_Cause he's my agent anyhow,_

_But don't tell Mama what you know._

_You can tell my brother, _

_That ain't grim_

_'Cause if he squeals on me_

_I'll squeal on him,_

_But don't tell Mama, bitte_

_Don't tell Mama, __please, Sir._

_Don't tell Mama, what you know._

Suddenly Erika spun herself back into his lap. Moriarty gripped her waist to steady her and nearly blushed to find he was touching skin. Erika smiled dazzlingly at him as she pulled herself closer to him. He stared at her face, dumbfounded, as she put two fingers to his lips and brought her face very close to his. As her rich scent swarmed his nostrils, Moriarty decided the Phantom was a dead man.

_If you see my Mummy,_

_Mum's the word!_

Moriarty went wide-eyed as she kissed him softly. Before he could react she pulled away to the applause to the audience. Moriarty stared at her, dazed. Erika smirked, amused by his reaction. Gently, she traced his jaw and whispered, "I have wondered about how you tasted. Now I know. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Professor."

Erika gracefully slid out of his arms. With a swing in her hips, she walked backstage with the other girls. Moriarty watched her leave without a single protest. Fenwick looked at him, concerned. Soon frustration clouded Moriarty's eyes and Fenwick groaned. Now the master would be in a bad mood for the next week.

--------------------

Holmes was in a foul mood when he returned to his hotel room. Three hours searching and not a single lead to a break in the case. Sure had information but he had yet to the pieces together? He was certain that the young singer was the missing Noir girl. They looked very similar and even shared the same first name. However, she denied even knowing the girl, except she knew the father. It was suspicious to Holmes and didn't seem right. But he needed more evidence before he could show Lestrade.

Looking up, He found his partner asleep at his desk. Her pretty brunette head was laying on top of the Noir case. Papers were all over the desk. The woman had no respect for anything. Stalking over, he roughly shook her shoulder. Lestrade shifted slightly and sighed in her sleep. Holmes' brow furrowed together and he shook harder. Lestrade jumped awake.

Groggily, she looked around and grinned up at Holmes. Taking a deep breath, she began to stretch out her back. A foul odor filled her nose. Lestrade recognized the scent as cigarette smoke. Putting her arms down she glared at Holmes and noticed his clothing. He went undercover without her. Anger boiled hot in her heart and her gaze sharpened. Holmes stiffened, knowing this was going to lead to another fight.

"You went undercover without me!" Lestrade growled, "You could have told me. Even hinted at it."

"Well, If you hadn't been sleeping or blushing over that Count, you could have come," Holmes shot back, as he began to remove the makeup. "It's not as if you would have cared to, considering that I was looking for the Noir girl."

"Always the Noir girl. I agree she had it hard, but she is gone! Let her go. A young man's been murdered without a reason."

"There is always a reason. And your precious count knows what it is!" Holmes pointed out.

"He isn't mine. And for your information he called. The killer sent him a note. He wants to meet us tomorrow for dinner."

"No, Its you he wants to meet. He doesn't want me there," Holmes calmly said, "And you are letting him play you like an instrument."

"No one plays me. And I think you are jealous. Of what I'm not sure," Lestrade smirked.

Holmes gaped at her. "I am not. How can I be jealous of a criminal?"

"He is not a criminal. He was never convicted."

"He shot and killed a man! He tried to kill his lover at the same time. Is that why you are so ready to condemn her, because she was sleeping with the Count?" Holmes asked hotly, "In my time, men were more willing to kill a lover than women were. Besides it seems his family has connections to the underground."

"This isn't your time, Sherlock. Things change. And that's his family, not him."

"Not as much as you think. Take off these blinders, Beth. He doesn't care about you. He didn't even care about her or his brother."

"Why? Because he made no attempt to find her after she disappeared?"

"Exactly." Holmes nodded, "Wait -- 'disappeared'? You actually agree that she disappeared and didn't run away?"

Lestrade blushed brightly, "Well, after looking at her file, she either went into hiding willingly or was forced."

"I think she did it willingly. At the club tonight I saw a woman who could be her twin, but denies even knowing Erika Noir."

"And you think she is lying?" Lestrade pondered.

"I know she is. Why would she admit the truth to me?"

"Maybe we should go back and interview the employees."

"We will have to do it another way. The bouncer there gave me an evil look when I began to question her. And there are some many new leads. Moriarty is in town because of his minions are arguing."

Lestrade sank down on the bed thinking. She knew they needed to get into that club. Glancing up, she noticed Holmes thinking on the problem too. It was nice to be at peace with him again. She didn't like fighting with him. In fact, she felt like shit afterwards. If only they could stop fighting. Hopefully this time the peace would last.

Lestrade looked up, "What do you mean they are fighting?"

Holmes plopped him self into a chair, "It seems The De Chagny is defying his orders. Possibly by bringing us here."

Lestrade chuckled softly, "No that wouldn't make him happy."

"And there is another force gathering power in the Underground. It's called the Phantom. It seems there was a feud between The Phantom and The De Chagnies long before Moriarty entered the scene. Erik Noir V was an agent for the Phantom."

"Erika's father? He was a criminal?"

"Just an informant it seems. He would gather information and sell it to the highest bidder. At least he did until he got shot."

"By The Count. Do you think his brother's murder was a revenge killing?"

Sherlock sighed, "In all likely hood yes, But the question is who did it? Erika, the Phantom, or Moriarty?"

Lestrade grew pensive. As she turned over the matter, she began to wonder if they stumbled on to something bigger than they realized. She walked to the window of the hotel room and looked out over the bright Paris night. Amid the Bright lights was one corner of darkness that seemed to hold out. Lestrade squinted and realized it was the defunct Parisian Opera House. Lestrade stared at for a moment. She remembered the stories about the disfigured performer who lurked there during Holmes's times. Glancing at her partner she wondered if he every investigated the case. She turned to ask him when a flash of white caught her eyes. Turning she thought she saw some one on the balcony.

Grabbing her ionser she stepped out. Holmes noticed her alertness and followed with his cane. Lestrade looked around the balcony. Holmes looked as well. Lestrade sensed a movement out of the corner of her eye. Moving quickly, she aimed at the intruder. Holmes turned as their visitor emerged from the shadows. He was dressed in clothes resembling that of a Victorian's gentleman. His Brown hair was covered by a black hat. The face was covered back a simple white mask. Lestrade stared hard at the intruder's blue eyes.

Holmes spoke up first, "Who are you?"

A tenor voice answered the question, "Just a Phantom in the night."

"Well, you are under arrest." Lestrade stated.

The figure turned to face them fully, moonlight glinting off the steel sword in its hand. Lestrade saw the weapon and Fired before Holmes could stop her. The blast sailed towards the masked figure. Holmes was so sure the man was going to get hit that he didn't expect what was happened next. With a cat like grace the figures raised the sword. The blast deflected off the shiny metal and hurtles back at them. Lestrade froze in shock that the figure was able to deflect the blast. Holmes grabbed Lestrade and dragged her down.

They watched as the masked figure jumped off the railing. The two detectives quickly recovered and hurried to a railing. Looking over the edge, they saw the figure climb down the side of the building with it's cape whirling around it. Soon it blended into the shadows and disappeared from sight. Lestrade looked at Holmes curiously.

"It seems we have met the Legendary Phantom." Holmes stated softly.


	5. Chapter 5

Myshawolf peeks out: A double update again. My Master's paper is wrapping up and i'm writing the Precursor to this Fic. Originally It was Angelina's fic the Case of The Honeymooners. But her account and then her computer died losing the fic. So I had to rewrite everything but I may have missed a few things. Sorry and Enjoy. Also I Do'nt own Any of the songs you see inthis fic. Buy the Cabnaret and Chicago Soundtracks. Good stuff.

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 5- Through The Looking Glass

Moriarty stared at the computer screen. He hadn't moved in the full two hours he sat there. The only things that said Erika Daae even existed were his memory of that night in the club and a small biography in the Surete's computer files. He glared at the singer's picture. There was more to her than what he was finding out; her bio didn't fit. Rubbing his eyes, he refused to sleep. She was waiting there to tempt him and tease him. He wanted ammo to use on her in his dreams. He slammed down his fist. He wanted her real name.

The computer beeped as it clicked over into another search. Moriarty looked up and puzzled over what he hit. As he tried to cancel the search, he froze as the picture began to bring up several other files. The one that stood out to him was the Noir Murder case.

It jumped out at him. Moriarty wasn't sure what possessed him to click on the abstract, but he did. He licked his lips in anticipation as he opened the page. Here would be where he found his answers.

The first thing he saw was the picture of Erika clutching her father's body. Moriarty felt an ache in his heart as he gazed at her face. She looked so young, merely a child. Unable to resist he put a finger to the computer screen to touch her face. What does seeing such a thing do to one so young?

Reluctantly he tore his eyes away from the picture to read the blurb about the murder. His eyes flashed as he clicked on Erika's name to read her biography according to the Surete. As he read a smile crept over his face. Several things began to make sense. She was a well trained actress with good standing at the Opera House before it was closed when she was twelve. Her father was a bandleader at the club and Erika would perform there during the early hours for the lunch crowd.

It seems the club was a cover for Erik's real profession. The quiet bandleader was really an information hunter and occasional cat burglar. Erik was also an agent for a rising criminal named the Phantom. The Surete speculated that Erika would quickly follow her father's footsteps. However she disappeared from the known world, as did the Phantom from the criminal underworld.

Moriarty smirked as he continued on. Erika would make an excellent addition to his gang. She was a very talented young lady. Moriarty would have to be careful. Looks and intelligence didn't always mix well. He would have to be mindful of any manipulation by her, if he could get over her seductive ways first.

Smirking at her picture, he thought, "It is time to turn the tables, my dear."

He frowned as he hit a snag. It seemed the Surete only kept the abstracts of their cases on their computers. If he wanted details on Erika and her past he only had two options. One was to question her himself. Considering how she affected him, that wasn't the wisest option. The other was to break into the Surete.

Moriarty grinned maliciously. Breaking into the Surete was crazy and foolish. He was guaranteed to get caught if he even messed up slightly. However, if that meant he would gain an edge over his current opponent, it was worth it. The siren was going down.

--------------------

Holmes leaned back in the hover car as they approached the café. He wasn't looking forward to this meal. The Count gave him the impression that he would prefer Holmes at the bottom of the Seine itself. However, Holmes refused to let Lestrade be alone with the man. For all they knew the Count was a murderer, and Holmes not about to put Lestrade at risk.

Yet this case was full of risks. Holmes came to that concludes last night when he found the Count still had underworld connection. It was very likely he was one of Moriarty's top allies. Then why bring them to Paris? Why not let Moriarty handle the brother's murder? Unless the Count didn't trust Moriarty, which makes Moriarty a possible suspect. However, Moriarty prefers to be present for his crimes, and by all accounts the Napoleon of crime wasn't there, which lead Holmes back to Erika Noir.

The singer had to be involved. The young man was poisoned. The only thing he drank that night was the drink at that club, a drink the singer touched. But she did so in front of a club full of witnesses and no one saw her put poison into the glass, only her finger and that was only for a brief second. So how did Raoul De Chagny get poisoned?

Holmes was shaken from his thoughts by Lestrade. A worried look passed over her face. Holmes merely smiled, thankful they left Watson back in New London in charge of the Irregulars and an outside consultant. They stepped out of the cab and on to the sidewalk outside the trendy café. The Count was waiting outside. Holmes noticed he was impeccably dressed and looked every bit the nobleman he was trying to be. The Count flattered Lestrade about everything on her from her hair to her dress. Holmes fought the urge to roll his eyes. He had a strong feeling Lestrade wouldn't appreciate it.

As they sat down, Holmes glanced at the menu, waiting for the moment to strike. The Count flirted lightly with Lestrade. To her credit, Beth tried to brush it aside. She still blushed when he complimented her beauty, but she maintained the conversation on a professional level. Holmes decided she had floundered enough and put down his menu.

"M'sieur de Chagny, the Inspector was telling me that you received a note," Holmes stated, bringing the Count's hard glare back to him.

"Oui, that I did," Ruelle remarked sharply.

"May we see it?" Lestrade asked gently.

Ruelle smiled at her. "Of course, mademoiselle."

Ruelle pulled out the small card and black envelope. Holmes took it and inspected it, as Lestrade scooted her chair closer to his so she could see. It was a white card with no blemishes or tears. On one side was the message written in red ink. Holmes decided it was to symbolize blood -- a characteristic he had seen before in another older case.

Gently he flipped the card over and gasped at the picture. The mask stared at him, pierced with a red rose. He looked at Lestrade to see if she remembered it as well. Noting her intense concentration, he knew she was trying.

"Just like the ones we received on the past two cases concerning Moriarty." Holmes reminded her.

Lestrade gasped. "You are right Holmes. It is the same picture and handwriting, but Holmes, what does that mean?"

"M'sieur, does this picture mean anything to you?" Holmes asked pointedly.

Ruelle reached for his drink, "Of course not."

"Then why would someone send it to you? Obviously it does." Holmes leaned back, giving his glare back to the Count, "You should tell us. If you want your brother's killer caught, you need to be honest."

Lestrade noticed the staredown and decided to add her pleading. "Please, Ruelle. If you know who it belongs to, you need to tell us."

The Count glanced at her and sighed. "Very well, my dear Inspector. This symbol is very well known in Paris and has been for over two hundred years. It is the Phantom's family crest."

"The Phantom?" Lestrade repeated, "But how? He is just a story, isn't he?"

"So was I, my dear Lestrade." Holmes smiled at her. "But he wasn't a story during my day. He was very real."

"Indeed. He has been targeting my family for years. We had six years of peace. I figured it was over, that the Phantom was truly gone. And then he struck." Ruelle stated firmly, "I refuse to go into hiding. I want him prosecuted for what he did to my brother."

"We'll find him," Lestrade assured him. "I promise."

Ruelle smiled at her. "Ah, ma chère, I don't want to risk you needlessly."

"Risks are part of my job," Lestrade shrugged.

Ruelle's eyes took on a strange gleam. As soon as it was there, then it was gone. Lestrade blinked. She must have imagined it. Soon Ruelle was smiling sweetly.

"There is one thing I can tell you," Ruelle stated. "The Phantom is a very close friend to the Noirs."

"The Noirs? Really?" Holmes queried, intrigued. "How do we find a Noir?"

Ruelle seemed caught off guard by the question. Lestrade knew why Holmes asked it -- to see if Ruelle had played a part in Erika's disappearance. Lestrade watched his face as confusion washed over it. Ruelle shifted slightly under Holmes' unwavering gaze.

"I have no idea," Ruelle confessed. "I was hoping you could tell me. They have eluded me for years since the death of Erik Noir V."

"Why is that?" Holmes asked.

Ruelle sighed softly. "Our families have never gotten along. Erik Noir was a fine and honorable man. I was in love with Erika, his daughter. Erik didn't approve but he wanted peace, and for his daughter, happiness. The night he was killed, Erika blamed me. That it was my fault. When I tried to explain it to her, she disappeared."

Lestrade looked at Holmes to say, 'I told you so'. But Holmes didn't look convinced. He glared at the Count. He wasn't a bad actor. But he didn't see sincerity; it was as if he wanted them to be moved. Holmes glanced at Lestrade, to see that she was.

Holmes spoke up gruffly. "So you are saying that Erika is involved in this?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Ruelle nodded. "Find Erika and I'm sure she will lead you to the killer."

Holmes leaned back as he considered his options. He looked up to see Lestrade begin to tell the Count about his discovery in the club. Thinking fast, he swiftly kicked her, causing her to glare. Silently he conveyed a message to keep quiet. Lestrade glared at him but remained silent.

---------------------

The Phantom watched the table closely from his spot in the shadows. With grace it picked up its glass and regarded the Count with contempt. It seemed the fool was trying to woo another conquest. The girl seemed to resist but the Count was wearing her down. At least M'sieur Holmes knew what was going on and currently disrupted it.

Smiling, the Phantom saluted the Great Detective with its glass. It was impressed with his skill at discovering the connection between the Noirs, de Chagny, and the Phantom. Now if he learned where, The Phantom would be greatly impressed and worried. But it would cross that bridge when it came up. The Phantom glanced at its dining partner.

"Nadir, my friend. What is wrong?" The Phantom chuckled.

"I don't like all these players running around. It makes me nervous for your safety," Nadir admitted. "Holmes is getting close and the Professor is hacking into Surete files. We are going to get caught. You know that they want you dead."

"I'm not blind, but I doubt the Professor will kill me as quickly as the Count," the Phantom mused, "and I doubt Holmes will willingly turn me over. After all, he doesn't trust the Count."

Nadir smirked. "No one is sure who to trust."

"And let's keep it that way, shall we?"

-------------------------------------

Holmes nearly groaned as they entered their hotel room. After the brief discussion on Erika, the Count turned the conversation to himself. Holmes had clicked out of it. Occasionally, he would tune in when the Count would state something that didn't ring true to Holmes.

Glancing at Lestrade, Holmes realized that she had got more out of this evening than he had. Her mind and mouth were going a mile a minute over all the possible places to look. He watched her, amused. When she had a fire lit under her, she was like a firecracker of ideas. He enjoyed listening to them. A few were very close to the actual truth while others were very outlandish -- which helped in its own way.

Holmes leaned back as her voice filled the room. He could hear every word she said and mentally filed it away. Tonight he was too tired to think. Then Lestrade stopped talking. Curious, Holmes looked to see what had caught Lestrade's attention.

Sitting on the desk were two black envelopes. Their names were written on the front in gold. Lestrade hesitantly picked hers up. Obviously, the killer wanted to taunt them as well. Holmes reached for his. Exchanging a glance, they opened them up together.

Lestrade traced a finger down the front. It was a beautiful picture. It was hard to think that someone who'd created such an image was capable of murder. Gently she flipped the card over. In bold red was an ominous message, "Beware the royal mask." Lestrade puzzled over that.

Holmes glanced at the card and smirked. Obviously he wasn't the only one who was worried over Lestrade's trust of the Count. He studied the picture on the front. It was easy to see that it was hand-painted onto the card. Which meant the sender was proud of the symbol. Flipping his over, his eyes scanned the message. It was very true indeed.

"What does yours say, Holmes?" Lestrade asked.

"A piece of advice that we need to heed from here on in," Holmes told her as he turned the card to her, so the message was visible. "Trust no one."


	6. Chapter 6

No note today. Too busy packing for Hawaii. FYI, Towards the End it gets a bit racy. I'm practicing for my first trashy romance novel.

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 6- Read a Book a Day! (That's it for the Educational promotion)

Moriarty slipped silently into the empty archives room. For a police station they had lousy security. Moriarty pulled out a small luminator and began to search. As he scanned the old boxes, he was surprised that the Surete even kept a paper trail for all their cases. Scotland Yard had everything on their computers. This was so archaic and yet very smart. If the system ever crashed, they would have the paper copies to restore everything.

Moriarty looked around among the boxes until he spotted a terminal. He grinned. That would make his job easier. Walking over, he looked around at the deserted room. Obviously no one comes in here that often. Sitting down, he quickly hacked his way through the system. Soon he found what he wanted -- the Noir murder case. He began to download it.

"I can't believe you would risk your neck for some singer," Fenwick grumbled over the earpiece.

"She is connected to the man I want to find," Moriarty growled. "Besides, this is research."

"Zut, you are obsessed with the girl. Not unlike when you fancied the Inspector."

"I would like to know who I'm dealing with. She ruined two crime and is tied to a rival. Maybe I can blackmail her into helping me."

"Whatever," Fenwick grumbled. "I'm not bailing you out."

Moriarty sighed with relief when Fenwick cut the connection. Sometimes he was too nosy for his own good. Moriarty continued to search the file when he noticed an odd link. Clicking it, he went right to the Phantom's file at the Surete. As he scanned it he noticed the strong ties between the Noirs and the Phantom, especially the Noir women.

Moriarty copied and downloaded it. Leaning back he waited for the file to finish loading on to his data disk. It seemed a visit with Erika Daae would be in order. If he struck before she could bat her eyes at him, he could do it. Moriarty smiled; he could almost see the shock on her face. Maybe he could convince her to work for him and bring him the Phantom.

Moriarty retrieved his disk and shut off the terminal. He froze as he heard a voice coming towards him. Quickly, he ducked behind a set of cabinets just as Leroux entered while talking on the phone. Moriarty watched him closely as he picked up a box to carry out.

"Nadir, I know things are getting hot. I'm getting hot by just talking to you. Listen, tell Erika that her secret is safe. As far as I know, Holmes and Lestrade have not figured her out yet." Leroux grunted as he moved the box. "Now listen here, Khan. Erik was my friend too. There is no reason to get nasty."

Leroux rolled his eyes as he carried out the box. Moriarty grinned. Nadir was the name of the man who watched over Erika. How many Nadirs and Erikas that knew each other were there in Paris? It seemed as though Miss Daae were getting a little antsy. Maybe he could add some heat to the fire.

-------------------------------

Lestrade sighed over the books in the library. Holmes had insisted that they use resources outside the Surete. Lestrade couldn't think why but agreed anyway. She glanced up at him. He was bent over another book, furiously writing down something of interest. Beth wondered briefly if he ever got tired from all that writing. Absently she picked up another book.

This one was very light and small compared to the others. Lestrade briefly read the title and snorted. What was a piece of fiction doing in their pile? _Phantom of the Opera_ indeed. She'd turned to put it on the return cart when Holmes stopped her.

"That was a case during my time. I want to read it to remind myself of the details," Holmes spoke up. "If I recall correctly, Erik Noir was the name of a witness to the whole thing."

Lestrade perked up at that. "Do you think that he is an ancestor of Erika Noir?"

"I like to think so," Holmes stated hesitantly as he flipped through the book. "I think they even describe where the Phantom lived."

Lestrade snatched the book back. "I'll read it while you research. I read faster than you, anyway."

Holmes chuckled as he read through the tomes he'd picked out. Soon he found himself looking over Charles Garnier's notes of the building of the Opera House. Holmes smirked as he came across the name Noir several times. It seemed the Noirs were also tied to the Opera House. He wouldn't be surprised if Noir had built himself a home there.

Holmes suddenly got an idea. If that Noir did build a home, it was possible that his descendants might use it as well. After all if it were in the Opera House, it would be very well hidden. The perfect place to hide -- and Erika was a Noir. She would know where to find it. In fact she could probably hide away there whenever she was in danger.

His mind whirled through the possibilities. Erika could have easily hidden away from everyone, possibly until whatever was haunting her was gone. He was certain the singer was Erika Noir. They looked too much alike not to be the same person. Even her fake last name, Daae, was a throwback to the Phantom debacle.

"I found it!" Lestrade shouted excitedly, resulting in several patrons shushing her. "Holmes, I found out who Erik Noir was."

Holmes leaned forward. "Really?"

"He was the Phantom." Lestrade smiled, causing Holmes's breath to catch.

Holmes shook his head and tried to concentrate on the matter on hand. "Where does it say that?"

Lestrade leaned forward, showing him the passage in the book. "Right here in Christine's confession to the Vicomte. She even tells us where the Phantom lived."

Holmes carefully read the passage. Now it all made sense. It would make the perfect hiding place. In a place so dark and dank, no one would venture there willingly. It was so isolating, anyone could disappear, even in this age of technology. The cellars and catacombs under the Opera House were rumored to hold many secrets. Nothing as important to them as the Phantom's lair, the home of the Noirs, though.

"She is hiding in the cellars of the Opera House," Holmes stated softly. "Miss Noir is waiting there."

Lestrade paled. "Are you sure that is where she is?"

Holmes stared at the passage. "I'm sure of it. It was never destroyed. And it's the perfect place to hide from a cold and unfeeling world. No one knows how to get in but her family. I'm sure the Noirs have lived there for centuries and no one ever knew."

Lestrade nodded uncertainly, fear circling around her. "It makes sense. What are we going to do with this?"

Holmes smiled. "We need to talk to Leroux. See if we can get in."

Lestrade felt relieved. "That's good. We can save it for tomorrow morning."

Holmes looked surprised. "The morning? We should go tonight when we know they aren't expecting us to come."

Lestrade felt panic fly through her. Tonight? In the dark? Was he crazy? He knew how she felt about dark cellars, especially unarmed. Slowly it dawned on her; she wouldn't be unarmed. Her ioniser would be at her side. Gradually she began to relax.

Holmes watched her with concern. She'd seemed very frightened for a second. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what was wrong. However, he decided to ignore it. After all, Lestrade was a very proud woman; to insinuate that she was afraid would rub her raw. Holmes was enjoying the peace between them and didn't want to upset it. Instead he explained his plan to her. Lestrade would nod at certain places and disagree at others. Holmes smiled as he fell into the routine that was the basis of their relationship.

---------------------

The Phantom gently played on the piano at the empty club. In an hour the patrons would swarm in to watch the show, to watch Erika sing and dance. A smile touched its lip; Erika was a small part of a greater whole. A whole that was missing pieces since Erik's death. But the Phantom intended to find those pieces for her, intended to protect her as well. Protect her from what had been done to her, from men who would take advantage of that.

As the Phantom's fingers danced its way through the melody of the song, its mind flipped to the Napoleon of Crime. He had been back to the club several times since he ended up with Erika in his lap. The Phantom smiled; it was very amusing to see Moriarty caught offguard by a pretty face. He looked ready to scoop Erika up and carry her off with him. Too bad. Erika was too well protected for him to get far.

The Phantom turned to the bar. Nadir sat there waiting for his orders or the crowd, whichever came first. Dear loyal Nadir, who had been there to help with dealing with Erik's death. Nadir, who kept a watchful eye on the Underground to see if the Count were trying to find them. Nadir, who brought the Phantom back through his gentle urgings and silent support. The Phantom knew it would be lost without its best friend. Nadir smiled at the Phantom before returning to converse with Danesh, his boyfriend and part owner of the club.

Soon. It was only a matter of time until the Count came himself. After all, Holmes was slowly sniffing out its trail. It was only a matter of time until Holmes completed the puzzle and tried to remove its mask. The Phantom refused to be revealed like that. It would reveal its identity when the time was right, when the Count, Ruelle, drew his last dying breath. The Phantom got up from the piano, drawing the attention of its friends and allies.

"We need to prepare," the Phantom stated strongly. "He will arrive soon."

------------------------

Silently, Moriarty slipped into the room that he'd watched Erika walk out of. He shut the door and smiled. It was nice of Erika to leave the light on so he could see. It was very simple yet elegant. On the far wall was a big mirror that made the room seem much bigger than it was. It reflected back the small vanity covered with makeup and perfume bottles. Moriarty noted a few expensive brands but dismissed them as being from a few admirers. He walked into the room a bit more and headed to the closets lining the wall to his left.

Gently, he rifled through them. He was surprised to see a few tasteful dresses mixed in with clothing that he figured Erika wore in her downtime. However, he didn't see any of her costumes. Moving to the next closet, he noticed a divider leaning against the wall. He'd figured these were burned a long time ago. He remembered waiting in several dressing rooms as his interest of the moment had changed on the other side. He wondered if Erika changed behind it as a young man waited for her. A frown caressed his face as he remembered the Phantom's claim on her. Did he wait in here for her after a show?

Turning, he noticed the simple bed behind him. It was neatly made with red sheets. Didn't Erika say she slept in black sheets when he first met her? Curious, he walked over and ran a hand over the satiny sheets. His mind was soon flooded with Erika entangled in the red sheets, waiting for him.

Moriarty tried to free himself from the image but didn't succeed. Then he heard it. Erika and Nadir's voices floated to him. He tore himself from the image and wildly looked for a place to hide. Quickly, he dove in to the open closet and pressed himself behind all the costumes so he was not easily seen.

Erika walked into her dressing room quickly. She was surprised that the Professor hadn't come tonight. His lackey was there, and Erika had been tempted to ask him where his boss was. But Nadir stopped her. He was right, she needed to be alert. After all, how long until Ruelle found her again?

Weary, Erika picked out a simple change of clothes from her closet. She smiled at the ripped jeans and t-shirt she hadn't worn in years. Erika prayed they still fit. Choosing the appropriate undergarments, she set up the divider while Nadir arranged her perfume and makeup.

Settling herself behind the divider, Erika unknowing showed her back to the hiding Moriarty. Moriarty stared at her back. She wasn't going to change, was she? He felt his mouth go dry at that thought. As a gentleman he must stop her from exposing herself to him. A small voice whispered, she doesn't know you are there, so you are safe. Moriarty shook it off. He must step out and stop her.

Nadir spoke up, reminding Moriarty that if he did step out, his life was over. "You know, I'm glad no one accosted you tonight. I'm getting tired of growling."

Erika snickered as she removed the pins from her hair. "You can always have Danesh play bodyguard."

Nadir sounded appalled. "My sweet Danesh? He is hardly intimidating. If he watched you, that would be the day your new admirer snaps and tries to seduce you."

Erika laughed, a low and husky sound that forced Moriarty to hold his breath. "I doubt the Professor would do that."

Moriarty frowned. She obviously underestimated his nerve or overestimated his control. Either way she was playing with fire, he thought as her long curly hair was finally freed and flowed over her back. Casually, she dropped the pins into the bowl before leaning down to remove her pantyhose. Moriarty nearly choked as she rolled it down her long toned legs. Why was the closet suddenly so stuffy?

Nadir snorted, throwing some cold water on Moriarty. "Somehow, I don't think he is as controlled as you think."

Erika kicked the pantyhose to the side with a laugh. "I know he isn't. I think he just isn't sure what to do. We have all been there."

Moriarty felt his legs get weak as Erika reached up to remove her underwear. Slowly, he slid down the wall as Erika did the same with her undergarment. Moriarty watched as she cast that aside as well, only to replace it with a fresh pair. Closing his eyes, he grasped for control. Never had he been tempted like this by anyone and she didn't know it.

"I have no idea what you mean," Nadir stated primly.

"Like hell you don't," Erika shot back. "I remember Pierre, Irving, and Herb."

"And I remember…" Nadir started before pausing. "Damn it, there was only the bastard Count, huh?"

Erika frowned behind the divider. Why did he have to bring him up?

Moriarty noticed the change in Erika as she wrapped her arms around herself. What was the history between them? he wondered.

Nadir spoke up softly. "I'm sorry, Erika. I shouldn't have said that."

Erika brightened up and she reached up to unzip her dress. "No harm done, Khan."

Moriarty felt his throat close up as Erika slowly shed her dress. She stood in front of him in only her undergarments. He nearly groaned as his clothing suddenly became too tight. Moriarty closed his eyes as Erika turned and picked up the jeans and slipped them on. He needed to hold out until she was dressed and Nadir was gone. A few more minutes were all he needed.

Suddenly, a beeping filled the room. Erika froze as she buttoned up her jeans. Moving a speed that Moriarty had never seen before, she left the divider. Moriarty breathed a sigh of relief.

"Someone is in the Opera House," Erika cried out. "They can't find the house."

"I'll make the excuses. You need to hurry," Nadir stated firmly.

Erika reappeared and quickly slipped on the t-shirt. Moriarty's overloaded mind was struggling to absorb what was happening. Soon he heard the dressing room door slam shut. Moriarty suddenly realized that Erika was leaving. He mustn't let her get away. Quickly fighting his way out of the closet, he radioed Fenwick to follow Erika and report back when he knew where she was going. As he cut the connection, he just hoped he would have his control back by then.


	7. Chapter 7

Myshawolf: peeks out Sorry about not having these up sooner. I was busy with getting ready to graduate from grad school. Anyways here is Chapter 7 and 8. I'm going to be begging for reveiws soon. I want to know what everyone thinks of the new ERika. I know she isnt' as nice as the old one but that's the point I guess. She is suppose to be evil (trying to make up for the fact that there is a lack of good villianesses in the world. ). Anyways I'll have a preseguel up that will detail the previous run ins Erika and Moriarty had with each other. Keep and eye out for it. It's gonna be title. 'Out Tonight.'. You'll see why when you read it. Well Enjoy and On with the show!

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 7- The Theater of Shadows. plays creepy Phantom Music

The lobby was cast in silver moonlight. It reminded Lestrade of the old horror movie she had seen on the vid disks in her college years. As she looked around, she moved closer to Holmes. Somehow having him there was comforting to her. Lestrade inspected the glamorous lobby. To think that a little over ten years ago, this lobby was bustling with patrons. Now only shadows were left -- shadows that seemed to dance, to Lestrade's eyes. How did she let Holmes talk her into this?

Suddenly there was a noise. Lestrade jumped, drew her ioniser and took aim. Holmes jumped as well and flicked his lumie on. The beam fell across a staring Siamese cat. Its lilac tail flicked behind it as it gazed at the two intruders with soft light blue eyes. Lestrade relaxed slightly as Holmes chuckled. The cat got up and lazily trotted towards the stage area, forgetting about the two spies she'd encountered.

Lestrade felt the need to break the silence. "I got to cut back on the coffee."

Holmes chuckled. "It seems we are both jumpy. Deidre will be amused to know a Siamese scared us."

Lestrade put her gun away. "Must be a stray that is here trying to catch some mice."

"I don't think so, my dear Lestrade. If you noticed, most strays are very thin from inconsistent eating and very bad-tempered towards strangers. Yet this one was very healthy-looking; it probably has an owner that takes care of it. Also, it wasn't afraid of us."

"So it's used to human contact." Lestrade caught on. "So someone is living here."

"Possibly someone who knows what happened to Erika Noir," Holmes nodded. "We should follow it to its owner."

Lestrade nodded reluctantly. She wasn't looking forward to going deeper into the Opera House, but there were clues here. Lestrade followed Holmes very closely. Holmes noticed her tension and tried to distract her with stories of his old cases. Lestrade began to relax but still kept an eye open for anything.

Holmes smiled as Lestrade stayed close. He had a feeling the Count wouldn't try to soothe her fear and yet keep her focused on the task at hand. Holmes hid his smile as he spoke about how he'd followed the original affair of the Phantom of the Opera. Glancing at her, he could tell she was interested in it. Soon they reached the massive stage area.

Holmes looked around, inspecting what he could. It was too big for them to search together. They would have to split up. At least they could communicate with their wrist coms. Lestrade braced herself as if she could sense what was coming.

"It's too big," Lestrade whispered.

"Indeed it is," Holmes nodded. "We'll have to split up if we want to cover enough ground."

"But how will we keep in contact? I mean, we are in a madman's territory," Lestrade protested softly.

"We'll talk through the wrist coms. Lestrade, we are not in one of Deidre's horror movies. Please calm down," Holmes spoke comfortingly to her.

Lestrade nodded. She needed to think about the case. She wasn't unarmed. Her ioniser was by her side. Feeling more confident, Lestrade gave Holmes her usual cocky smile. Holmes returned it and the two went their separate ways through the Opera House.

---------------------------

Moriarty peeped out from the shadows as he watched the detectives walk around. Their light cut through the darkness that surrounded them. Moriarty was fine in the dark but he could tell that Lestrade was very ill at ease. A smirk crossed his lips. Of course the Inspector would be scared of the darkness in the abandoned theater.

Moriarty moved with them. Obviously, they were the reasons why Erika fled the club so quickly. There was something here that she wanted to protect. If he followed them they would lead him to her. Moriarty wanted to find her. She was such a temptation to him. Every time he saw her, she tested his control, whether she knew it or not.

Moriarty frowned as they split up. He stepped out onto the dark stage unsure who to follow. Right now, he wished he'd let Fenwick follow him. Now he had to choose the zealot or the meddler.

-------------------

Lestrade pulled her lumie as she looked among the boxes backstage. So far she'd only found an old prop table with a dusty sign that read 'Don't Touch', and several rats. Shuddering, she continued on.

Unbeknownst to Lestrade, her light footsteps tapped a section of the stage that was a trigger. As her violet eyes searched the shadows for monsters, she didn't see a trapdoor open in front of her. Its mouth was open, waiting for its unsuspecting prey. As her feet hit empty space, Lestrade reacted in a calm and rational way. She screamed as she pitched forward and fell through the darkness.

She hit the floor very hard. Rubbing the parts that ached from the fall, Lestrade found herself staring into a pair of violet eyes. They looked very familiar. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head. When she reopened her eyes, she looked around and nearly jumped in surprise. She was surrounded by several reflections of herself.

A room of mirrors, Lestrade thought, panicked. As she moved around she found a hallway still filled with mirrors. A maze, it was a maze of mirrors. She pulled out the ioniser out of instinct. Suddenly she remembered the years of training. Her fear was gone. She needed to get out and back with Holmes.

She moved with caution. Lestrade refused to give into the gnawing little voice in her head that warned her that her gun was useless. If she was going to go down, it would be swinging.

------------------

Holmes froze as he heard Lestrade's scream rip through the silent Opera House. He stopped what he was doing and ran through the dark towards her voice. She was fine, he told himself. She was just spooked by a rat. He slowed down when he didn't see her lumie. Panic coursed through his veins.

"Lestrade!" Holmes shouted into the dark as he hurried along, "Lestrade, answer me!"

Silence greeted him in return. Holmes continued to shout as he walked along quickly. This was slowly turning into one of Deidre's treasured horror movies. If they made it out, he made a mental note to tell Deidre about this night.

Suddenly the floor was gone from under him. Holmes fell through the dark and landed on him back. Gradually he sat up and looked up. He was in a hall of mirrors. Sighing, he stood up and began to search of a way out and back to Lestrade.

As his hands touched the smooth glass, he worried if she was all right. Hopefully, she hadn't pulled out her ioniser and started blasting. She could hurt herself. Soon he discovered the entrance to another mirror hallway. Smirking, he walked down it. It was an interesting puzzle he found himself in.

--------------

Lestrade continued through the maze. Soon she started despairing whether she would ever get out. Keeping her ioniser ready, she quickly made her way through the maze of mirrors. Lestrade stopped a few times to try and keep herself from panicking. When one panicked, they make mistakes.

A husky voice called out to her, "Who are you?"

Lestrade turned around quickly. Her ioniser remained steady even though her heart was going a mile a minute. Her violet eyes widened at the sight in the mirror. It was impossible, what she saw.

Standing in the mirror wasn't her reflection but the reflection of someone else. A pair of sharp blue eyes pierced into Lestrade with annoyance. Her curly brown hair cascaded down her back. She was dressed in a white gentlemen's shirt and black pants. A simple gold chain and ring hung around her slender, pale neck. The woman stood with the grace of a queen. Lestrade recognized her immediately from the photo.

Lestrade walked up with the ioniser still leveled at Erika. A smirk graced her lips as she watched Lestrade's antics. Lestrade's fingers touched the glass. That was impossible. Lestrade was so sure she was in the hallway with her.

"I'll repeat myself, chère. Who the hell are you?" Erika asked again.

"Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard, Miss Noir." Lestrade replied, "You are under arrest."

"A bit out of your jurisdiction, aren't you, Inspector? Why are you here?"

"I'm here to solve the murder of Raoul de Chagny, in which you are a prime suspect. Now just come along peacefully."

"No."

"Excuse me, I wasn't asking. You are not running away like you did when your father died."

Those blue eyes flashed dangerously, "You know nothing about that. You are playing with fire. You actually assume Erika Noir still exists."

Lestrade smirked, "Aren't you standing there arguing with me?"

"Maybe. After all, I could have died and you are talking to a ghost."

"I don't believe in ghosts. Now step out of that mirror or I'll shoot."

"And then you'll shoot yourself."

Lestrade growled at the smile on Erika's face, "You are a coward, a scared little girl who couldn't handle her father's death."

"You don't know anything about that, as blind as you are to the Count. Tell me, Inspector, do you consider yourself a smart woman?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you believe his lies? Does he tell you that you are beautiful, exquisite, a rare find, a goddess that he can worship? Does he tell you things that no one has ever said to you before? Do you feel loved, treasured, when he tells you things?"

Lestrade tried to block out Erika's sneering face, a face that had seen a darker side to the man who was currently trying to woo her. Lestrade couldn't let her emotions override her judgment. But didn't she already do that when she decided that Erika was the prime suspect?

"That has nothing to do with this!" Lestrade shouted at the specter in the mirror. "Absolutely nothing."

"He has, hasn't he? Honeyed words to lure you to his bed. He hasn't changed. He made promises and destroyed each one, destroyed me with each one."

Lestrade steeled her resolve. "So you are a jilted lover. Get over it. He has moved on."

"Has he? Are you jealous of me? That I screwed him first or that he screwed me? Is that why you condemn me?"

"Not at all."

"Then why?" Erika shouted. "You don't know what that bastard took from me and you condemn me. It's all my fault, isn't it? Why, Inspector! Why are you condemning me?"

Lestrade lowered the ioniser at the sight of tears in the woman's eyes. She repeated the question over and over again. Lestrade didn't have the answer. She just judged as the Count judged, even though she knew what he was accused of. Here was the result of the crime -- this woman who was still dealing with the loss. Lestrade could see it in her eyes. Erika was still feeling it in her soul. And Lestrade still condemned her, still blamed her.

Suddenly Erika was gone and Lestrade stared at her own reflection. But she didn't see it. Erika was still there, waiting for an answer. Slowly, Lestrade sank to the ground. How could she answer? She had broken the first rule she made for herself: never judge another until you know them. A tear coursed down her cheek as she felt her own betrayal.

"I'm sorry. I don't know," Lestrade confessed to the empty room.

-------------------

Holmes quickly walked through the maze. He started to get antsy. He wasn't sure how long he was down there but he was worried for Lestrade. He just remembered her fear of dark basements. How stupid was he for suggesting that they split up?

As he moved quicker, his thoughts stayed on Lestrade. He kept forgetting about that fear. She was so brave otherwise. She stood her ground in any situation, no matter the danger. Even when they were undercover and she threw him for a loop during the interview with therapist, she didn't flinch as he yelled at her for it. If she was hurt in any way he was going….

Holmes stopped mid-thought at the sight of the young lady in front of him. She stared at him with innocent blue eyes that were tinged with sadness. Holmes recognized her from her picture, except that she hadn't aged six years. They stared at each other in silence. Holmes wondered if he was seeing her ghost or a mirage.

"Who are you?" she called out. "You don't belong here."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, Miss Noir." Holmes bowed, eliciting a giggle from the young lady. "I'm looking for you and your friend the Phantom."

"I'm sorry, but he isn't here right now," she smiled softly. "He was injured during an encounter with the Count."

"I see. Maybe you can come out and we can talk."

"Aren't we talking now?"

"Yes, we are, but I would like to talk to your face rather than a mirror."

"I can't, sir."

"Why not?"

"If he knows I'm here, he'll kill me," Erika confessed softly. "I must die in order to find peace."

"The Count is after you, isn't he? He wants to finish what he started?"

"I can't say. It would put more people in danger."

"Erika, I want you to trust me."

"I can't, M'sieur Holmes. You work for him." Erika turned away. "You need to go."

"Why?"

"Because the Inspector needs you. Beware the Count. His mask is a good one."

Suddenly Erika was gone. Holmes stared at his reflection. She was scared still. No matter what, it boiled down to the Count and what he knew. He walked towards the mirror and gently touched the glass. Somewhere in here was a scared young lady. He would make sure the Count never found her.

The mirror suddenly slid to the side, revealing Lestrade sitting on the ground, crying. Holmes forgot Erika as he rushed forward to comfort his partner. He watched as a clear passage to the stairs leading out was revealed.

"I failed, Holmes. I judged her too soon," Lestrade confessed to him.

"I think we learned much about ourselves," Holmes nodded as he helped her up. "Now we need to get out of here."

----------------

Moriarty silently walked around the stage. He heard Holmes calling Lestrade's name and then he suddenly stopped. It was starting to spook him. He looked around for any sign of life. Soon he focused on any sound at all.

That was when he heard it -- the swishing of a cape. He turned quickly, drawing his ioniser as he went, only to face the tip of a sword. His gray eyes travel up to the blade that gleamed in the light cast by a single candle. The figure was dressed in an old-fashioned black suit. Moriarty looked at the face that was covered by a stark white mask. A pair of bright blue eyes stared at him. A black hat concealed the Phantom's hair from his view.

"Hello, Professor," a tenor voice greeted him.

"M'sieur Phantom," Moriarty growled as he remembered all that the Phantom held from him.

"Such a tone in my own house. You better watch it," the Phantom remarked calmly.

"I came to make you a deal. Join me."

"Or what?"

"Or be destroyed."

"Intriguing. I hold a sword to your throat and you make the threats. You are either really brave or really stupid."

"I prefer cunning. Your decision?"

"Is this another way of getting Erika, Professor?" The Phantom smirked at Moriarty's surprised look. "I do my homework."

"I see. Your decision, please."

"No. I refuse." The Phantom pulled the sword away. "And I suggest you put that ioniser away. Erika will be displeased if I have to hurt you."

Moriarty growled, "I will win her from you. I have a score to settle with her."

"Several, from what I heard. But she will never leave me. Our lives are tied too closely together."

"I will break that tie."

"You do and she will die."

"How did you get her bound so tightly?" Moriarty shouted. He didn't care who heard him. He wanted this man to tell him how he controlled Erika.

The Phantom merely smiled as he stepped away. The light was the only source on the stage. They stared at each other in the candlelight. Then Moriarty heard Holmes and Lestrade's voices. The Phantom did too, because in the next instant the candle was out. Moriarty lunged for the Phantom and barely missed him as he climbed up the rope. Moriarty grabbed the rope and followed.

He climbed for an eternity, thankful for the darkness. Then to his left he heard the Phantom land on the metal catwalk. Moriarty swung over and landed gently. Ahead he heard the Phantom run away.

Moriarty growled as he ran after him. He was going to get answers and he was going to get them tonight. Soon he watched as the Phantom disappeared onto the roof. Moriarty sprinted and slammed against the door, forcing it to swing open. The Phantom flew with the force of the hit and slid across the roof.

Moriarty smiled as he shut the rooftop door. He had him cornered. The Phantom slowly sat up and winced as he grabbed his arm. Good, Moriarty thought, make this pleasurable for me. The Phantom staggered to his feet and turned to face Moriarty. There was a small trace of fear in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. Moriarty grabbed the Phantom's bad arm and twisted.

"Let see who is behind this mask, shall we?" Moriarty mused as he reached for the mask.

As he pulled it off, he dropped it in surprise. Staring up at him with her lips parted in pain was Erika. Moriarty quickly let go of her. She smiled coyly at him. Erika rubbed her arm and her whole stance changed from very straightforward to a casually sexy one. Moriarty could easily see her figure through the men's clothes. He nearly groaned as he noticed her black bra begin to show through the white shirt, indicating she'd put it on very quickly.

"Disappointed, Professor?" Erika laughed. "I hope not."

"You are the Phantom?" Moriarty asked, unsure of the truth.

"Nope, just filling in tonight," Erika shrugged as she walked towards him, "I do that every so often."

Moriarty leveled a hard look at her. "I don't believe you."

Erika grinned as she ran a hand along his jaw. "I don't care. I stopped caring a very long time ago."

Moriarty wasn't sure how to respond when his body was starting to rebel again. He gripped her waist, intent on pushing her away. Yet somehow she got closer to him. Moriarty felt his vision begin to fog as her lips began to caress his neck. He needed to hold onto his control.

Erika smiled against his neck. Good, he was now at her mercy. She liked catching him off guard. Someday he'd be immune and learn how to get her back but Erika was going to enjoy this right now. Experimentally she gently licked his neck as she rubbed against him. Moriarty grabbed her chin and yanked her up so they were gazing into each other's eyes.

"You are teasing me," he stated tightly, "Don't tempt me. I'm not a gentleman."

Erika shot back as a challenge, "And I'm not a lady."

Moriarty pulled her forward, intent on kissing her. He watched as her eyes became slits in anticipation of the kiss. He wasn't sure how he did it but he shoved her away. The shock on Erika's face pleased him greatly. Wanting to savor it, he turned and strode towards the door. When he reached it, he turned and looked at her.

She stood in the night. Moonlight washed over her, making her look like the ghost she'd played when they first met. Her hair danced on the wind and she watched him leave. Confusion clouded her bright eyes. Moriarty thought it was odd that she just stared at him rather then try to seduce him back to her.

"When I bed you, it will be more private!" Moriarty shouted.

Erika grinned in a very easy way. "You mean, when I bed you, Professor."

Moriarty grinned. "Your Phantom will be gone first. That I will promise you, and you will be mine."

"We'll see, Professor," Erika called as he left, "We shall see."

---------------

Deep underneath the Opera House, The Phantom poured itself a glass of wine. So close, yet so far away. They all were. The detectives were getting closer to finding Erika Noir while Moriarty nearly had the Phantom unmasked. He still held a few doubts. The Phantom saw that when he left. Right now each one was regrouping, trying to sort their feelings.

Sipping the wine, the Phantom relaxed in its chair as it looked over all the information that Nadir brought. Again, it had to do its homework. It was only a matter of time until the de Chagny received what the detectives knew and he made his move. The Phantom wanted to be prepared for anything.

As it flipped through the file, it noticed a picture of the Professor. Lifting it up to examine it, the Phantom reflected that he didn't take a good picture. He looked ugly in the picture, almost old. Yet he wasn't that in life. Far from it, actually; it was easy to see that he was still in his prime when you met him in person. His arrogance alone when he laid down a challenge was a definite indication. The Professor greatly intrigued him.

Yes, the Phantom thought as he looked at each player's picture, the game was definitely getting interesting. Each player would need a tail, especially the Inspector. If the Phantom was right, the Count would try to conquer the beautiful Inspector, and soon. The Phantom wasn't about to let that happen.


	8. Chapter 8

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 8- Don't Kill the Messenger

He stared at the gun in his hand. He'd done it. Finally, he had avenged his father and could say he'd killed them all, including Erika. His heart lurched at the sight of her in his head. Beautiful Erika was gone. Erika, the naïve girl he'd wooed and bedded, was gone. For six years, his home had been emptied of her laughter, her smile.

Ruelle shook his head as he put the gun away. He regretted killing her, regretted her bloodline, but he was the Count de Chagny and the name must always come first. Too bad Erik had to be there. Ruelle would have been contented to let him die of old age, but the fool was always there protecting his daughter. So he paid the price for his folly.

Ruelle's mind wandered back to Erika. A wistful smile touched his lips. She was an eager lay, so willing to please. He taught her everything he knew and she learned quite well. However, she was hardly worth marrying. She was a liability, someone who would cause waves when he decided to marry the Countess St. Cyr. She was to be disposed of immediately. After all, she was a Noir woman, only good for pleasure and murder.

It was odd that six years later she would continue to haunt him. She still danced and sang in the shadows of his mind. His brother death screamed that she was responsible. But he didn't dare go to the club, not until he knew for sure. The detectives would do that easily for him. After all with their unwitting help, he could gain all that he lost.

Ruelle returned to his desk. The Countess St Cyr might have rejected him when she found out about the murder charge. However, he'd found one woman who didn't. Picking up a picture of Inspector Lestrade, a twisted smile touched his lips. A Yardie who was easy to manipulate was hard to find, yet this little gem dropped into his lap. He couldn't wait to have her there physically. All he needed to do was separate her from that meddling private detective. Then he could strike. Maybe he'd take her to the Noir Grave to show off that he'd truly won this game.

A chuckle escaped his lips as the plan began to form. Quickly, he worked to have his agents follow the detectives until he could make his move. This time no one would stop him from getting what he wanted, not even the past.

---------------------------

The Phantom quickly moved down the deserted street of the Rue Scribe. The Rue Scribe was cloaked in the mist of a new day. The Phantom preferred this time of day to run its errands. The law abiding citizens of Paris were still sleeping unaware of what happens in the shadows of the night life. Meanwhile, the members of the underworld were still running about which made his job easier.

The Napoleon of Crime needed to would on his security. It was too easy for the Phantom walk in to his lair and leaves a little token on the Napoleon's desk. The note should be enough to incest the mastermind. The Phantom smirked as he hurried along. He had appointments for the day to prepare for. The Phantom hesitated as it neared the spot where the tragedy occurred. The event with its horrific sounds and screamed played over and over in the Phantom's head.

Shaking off the feelings of that night, The Phantom hurried on. It was due at the Club soon. It didn't have time for such memories. Right now it had revenge to concentrate on. The De Chagny was going to move and soon on his agenda. The Phantom needed to be ready or another innocent was going to fall in battle. Moving quickly the Phantom disappeared into the shadows and mist, like a ghost in the early dawn.

-----------------

Holmes silently slipped through the empty club. He was relieved and surprised that no one was around. Of course it was still morning and from what he learned the club didn't start up until about mid afternoon, lunch time for the criminal class. Looking around he noted that the front of the club was much like the nightclubs of the early 1940's. He noted the many hidden alcoves, possibly places for illegal transactions. No wonder Erik was able to get such good information for the Phantom. Criminals would talk freely here and not think they were being listened to. It was perfect.

Making his way back stage he discreetly checked each room until he saw the lilac Siamese from the Theater staring at him. The two stared at each other for a few minutes. Finally the Siamese swished its tail before sauntering into a room. Holmes was about to continue his search when Erika's voice reached his ears.

"Come here, Ayesha. I found it." Erika spoke clearly in the deserted hallway.

Holmes licked his lips. Here was a break; Erika was alone with no one but the cat, Ayesha. The presence of the cat and Erika's obvious ownership of it proved his theory right. Erika did live in the Theater the only place no one would ever look for her. Which meant she was connected to the criminal called the Phantom. Holmes walked cautiously to the door. He has to be prepared for anything.

Looking around the corner of the door, he could see Erika sitting on the small bed. In her small hands was cradling a small orb. Sherlock watched as a sad smile crossed Erika's face. Her blue eyes gazed lovingly at the small orb. Her finger gently caressed the smooth metal surface of the orb. Curled up at Erika's feet was Ayesha watching her mistress with a casually interest.

"I have been losing my focus, Ayesha. Maybe Nadir was right about too many players involved in this game." Erika confided to the cat and unknowing to Holmes as well.

Ayesha merely mewed in response to the statement. Its tail flicked as well, brushing against Erika's arm. A girlish giggle escaped Erika's lips. It reminded Holmes about how young the lady really was.

Erika smiled at Ayesha, "Papa would like Moriarty being back in charge. And he would be intrigued by the Great Detective. It would be like he was back in great-great-great-great grandfather's day. I can understand that feeling. It's fun looking back on the past. Are you ready Ayesha?"

The cat meowed as it jumped into Erika's lap ready for an adventure. Erika tapped the side of the orb. A small whirling sound reached Holmes's ears. Watching amazed, a light shot out of the orb and encased the room very similar to what the Mazarin Chip did when it was activated. Holmes watched as the simple dressing room became the dance floor of the club. Sitting behind the piano was a handsome older man playing with great skill. Holmes never heard Chopin played with such feeling. The man smiled brightly, his blues eyes gleamed with pride as he played. His chestnut hair was streaked with gray but it made him look dashing, not old.

Holmes realized that this was Erika's father. The ghostly image of a man who lost his life to a man he trusted. Glancing at Erika, Holmes could see what this cost her, her last known relative. One bit of poor judgment and this was ripped away from her. Feeling like he was intruding, Holmes turned away. Now that he knew for sure that Erika was here, he could come back another time to interview her.

As he exited the hallway, a pair of voices reached his ears. Diving into an alcove, Holmes became silent in order to listen in. He watched warily as Leroux and Khan walked into view. Melting deeper into the shadow, he listened in with great interest.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on them." Khan growled, "I can't protect her if we don't know what they are up to."

"It's not like they are underlings to me. They are independent investigators. Besides Holmes isn't on the Count's side. Out of the two he is the more dangerous one." Leroux shot back, "He will keep it to himself, Khan, if it meant the Count wouldn't find out."

Khan snarled, "There are too many players poking around. Too many interested parties running around with the Count has renewed the bounty on her head and Moriarty demanding answers to the Phantom's identity."

"I guess the Count's Masquerade coming up isn't helping any."

"Of course not. She is deadest on going and showing up. She wants to let the Underground know she is back and ready to rumble. And she'll do it. Allah, why did you put me in charge of such a stubborn woman?"

"It's your lot in life?" Leroux joked, "Besides you are not alone, Khan. I'll be at this Masquerade as well. With all those criminals involved we must have some law enforcement."

"Just make sure none of them get to her. Or it will be your neck."

The two moved on to Erika's room. Holmes checked to be sure the coast is clear before slipping out of the club. It seemed that card was right. Leroux works for Khan and Khan works for Erika. Erika works for the Phantom and maybe responsible for the death of the younger de Chagny brother. Holmes needed to talk with Lestrade. It seems they must continue this investigation totally on their own. After all, The Phantom did warn them to trust no one.

---------------------

Lestrade walked down the streets of Paris. Today she was going to interview one of Dante de Chagny's friends who'd been with him at the club. So far she had several conflicting reports and theories about Dante's last few minutes. Lestrade puzzled over it. Where was the truth?

Lestrade stopped for a second. She wasn't sure what to believe anymore. Not after last night, not after she saw the result of six years ago. Lestrade was sure that wasn't even a scratching of the surface. What did Erika bury deep, far down where no one could see, where no one could touch?

Lestrade was so lost in her thoughts she didn't realize where she was going. Looking up she realized she was on the Rue Scribe, right outside a very old cemetery. Suppressing a shiver she turned away, intent on getting back on track.

As she moved away, she thought she saw someone in black fly by. She turned her head quickly to catch a glimpse, only to see no one there. Slightly shaken, remembering the ghost from last night, Lestrade quickly turned to leave. Instead she ran into Ruelle.

Lestrade stared at the handsome count in disbelief. His sandy blonde hair looked ruffled, like he hadn't slept much. He looked at her with surprise. Lestrade figured he wasn't expecting her to be there. Ruelle seemed to confirm this suspicion.

"Inspector, I wasn't expecting to see your lovely face here," Ruelle exclaimed.

"I think I took a wrong turn. I was on my way to interview your brother's friend, Marco, about what he saw," Lestrade smiled, "I think we have a lead on the singer at the club."

"Really?" the Count remarked with genuine surprise.

"Yes, she is an exact double for Miss Noir. Or at least Holmes says she is. I haven't seen her yet."

"And she was a singer at the club, you say?" Ruelle asked calmly, his mind already going a mile a minute.

Lestrade smiled at him as she nodded. Ruelle was dazzled by her beauty. Tonight he would make his move. But right now, it was time for some pleasure. Slipping a hand around her waist, he felt her stiffen slightly. He just smiled at her, hoping to relax her, while inside he frowned. Apparently, he would need some help.

"You know," Ruelle began smoothly, "I was just going to visit the Noir graves."

"You still visit them?" Lestrade asked, "You must have really cared for her."

Ruelle put on a sad face. "Yes. I miss her at times. I constantly hope to see her again, so much unfinished business between us. But come, I want to introduce you to someone."

Ruelle grabbed her hand and pulled her into the cemetery. Lestrade noticed how roughly he handled her. It was so different from Holmes, who usually pulled her along tenderly when leading her somewhere. Lestrade looked around the neglected cemetery. Stone angels stared down at her. In the distance she thought she saw a shadowy figure follow her. She blinked, and again the figure was gone. Lestrade hurried along. She was starting to get the creeps again.

The Count walked her to a huge stone building. Engraved on the front was the name of Noir. Bright red roses began creeping up the side, curling, and wound their way towards the top. Next to the name, a blooming rose's vine burst through a carved picture of a mask. Lestrade nearly collapsed as her mind saw a flash of the picture on the mysterious cards in her mind. Did that mean there was a Noir in America during the filming of the Honeymooners?

Before she could ponder it farther, Ruelle tugged her inside the tomb. Lestrade stared around at all the names that surrounding her. The male names seemed to stick to a theme, with such things as a couple Christians and Christophers, several Eriks, and one Raoul. They were similar to the name of the original players in the original mystery of the Phantom of the Opera.

"This is the resting place of the Phantoms," Lestrade whispered.

"Yes, sworn enemies of the de Chagnies. They have haunted my family for centuries. All we wanted was peace."

"Peace through bloodshed is no peace." Lestrade looked to him.

"Erik was different, as was Erika. They wanted peace." Ruelle turned to her fully.

"Why, then?"

Ruelle frowned. "Why what?"

"Why shoot them? They wanted peace," Lestrade stated firmly. She was going to get his reasons.

"There are more reasons to that situation than you can understand."

"Try me."

Ruelle looked around for a way to distract her. Finally he decided to move and move fast. Roughly, he pulled her into a kiss. He poured all his skill into the kiss meant to distract her. Instead, Lestrade shoved against him. Ruelle tightened his grip with one arm and he fumbled for the needle in his pocket. Lestrade bit his lip hard as he injected the serum in her. Crying in pain, he shoved her away.

Lestrade hit the wall of the tomb hard. She slid down the wall as dizziness took over her thoughts. The Count glared at her in a strange way. Lestrade wondered if he did this to Erika. _It seems Holmes was right about him._ Her arms began to feel heavy as she tried to fight the Count off.

"Bloody chit, you should have played along," Ruelle growled as he tried to undress her. "Now you are just making me want to hurt you more."

Suddenly someone in black tackled Ruelle away. Lestrade heard a brief scuffle occur outside. She closed her eyes as nausea swept over her. _Please don't let Ruelle return_, she prayed silently. Soon a melodious tenor voice called to her. Lestrade opened her blurry eyes to see a sea of white with two sapphire dots floating in it.

"Please don't hurt me," Lestrade whispered, feeling pathetic that she had to plead with this stranger.

"I have no intention to, as long as you don't hurt me," the stranger joked as it lifted her. "Now to get you to safety. The coward ran but he'll be back."

Lestrade noticed something red on the stranger's arm, staining the white shirt it wore under the cape. "You are hurt."

"I'll live. I always do." the stranger replied taking her underground, the safest route it knew.

----------------------

Holmes trudged into the hotel room. His eyes ached from digging through the Surete and the library's archives. What a waste of a day. He didn't learn anything he didn't already know. As he shut the door, he thought, hopefully Lestrade had better luck.

Holmes clicked on the light. On the bed was Lestrade, out cold. Frantic, he hurried towards her. Then he saw the syringe on his desk with a black envelope next to it. Torn between which one to go to first, Holmes sighed.

Quickly, Holmes walked to Lestrade's side. He bent over Lestrade, checking her vitals. Soon he was satisfied that she was okay. He just watched her for a moment. She looked so peaceful laying there. Gently Holmes brushed a stray hair from her face.

He snatched the black envelope off the desk. What did their mysterious snitch have to say? He ripped it open and took out the familiar card. He sneered at the card and flipped it over. In the clear red ink was 'The antidote is in the needle." Holmes put down the card and picked up the needle. Should he trust them? So far the writer hadn't led him wrong, but it had warned him against trusting anyone.

Holmes looked back at Lestrade. Obviously, the writer cared about their welfare. Slowly he walked over and injected the serum in to Lestrade's bloodstream. He threw out the needle, sat in a chair that was nearby and waited.

-------------------

Erika ran the brush through her hair carefully. Gently, she crossed her legs, allowing the bottom of her robe to fall open. Erika shifted slightly in her seat as she continued to get ready for her entrance, if she had one.

She had had a few close calls today. The Count had discovered that she was alive and now his goons were on the prowl. It was a good thing that she could easily disappear when she needed to. Right now, Nadir was having kittens because the Count was looking for her.

The Count was always looking for her. He hadn't stopped during those six years she laid low. Sure, he lightened up on it, but he never stopped. Erika knew this was going to happen when his younger brother died in the club. It wasn't a shot, it was an explosion; and the Count was answering it beautifully.

Erika put down the brush and reached for one of her perfumes. Tenderly, she rubbed the scent on her neck and upper chest. If she didn't perform tonight, maybe she would drop in on the Professor. A smirk flowed across her face. That would rock him. Lost in her thoughts of ways to torture Professor James Moriarty, she nearly missed hearing her door squeak open.

However, Erika did hear it. Her sapphire eyes looked in the mirror towards the intruder. The tall bulky man in her doorway stared at her with cold hard eyes. Erika didn't flinch. She knew why he was there. The Count sent him to collect her. Well, she wasn't about to make it easy.

She turned around just as he lunged for her. Erika rolled away as he slammed into the vanity. Erika smirked evilly. She hoped he hurt himself. Erika glanced at the door. She could reach it in time. Erika sprinted towards the door. Her finger brushed the frame as her head peeked into the hallway.

Suddenly a burly arm grabbed her waist and yanked her back in. Erika gasped loudly as she began to struggle; she nearly made it. The goon slammed the door shut, chuckling as he did so. Erika grew more desperate as he had her arms pinned to her side.

"Now, now, chère, no need for that. The Count has been searching for you," the goon informed her, "He told me not to damage you and I don't want to hurt such a pretty package."

"Laissez-moi partir, vous hybride. Je ne vais pas n'importe où!" Erika raged in her struggle to get free.

The goon only laughed at her, causing Erika to grow more upset. She tried everything to get free. The goon only tightened his grip on her. Soon he was squeezing hard enough to cut off Erika's air. Dear Lord, Erika grimaced, he is trying to knock me out. I can't pass out or I'm dead.

A smooth british voice interrupted her thoughts. It startled her captor enough to loosen his grip. Erika gasped for air and winced at the aching in her ribs. She turned her head towards the door to see who just saved her, but the goon was blocking her view.

"Scram, M'sieur. This is a private party!" the goon growled.

"You hear the Mademoiselle," the voice spoke again as it approached. "Put her down. You aren't taking her anywhere."


	9. Chapter 9

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 9 – Shattering Glass

Moriarty growled at the man that held Erika. He'd been coming down the hallway when he saw her get yanked back into her room. What alerted him that she was in trouble was her yelling. Fury whipped through him as he walked towards the room. Seeing Erika being squeezed into submission by this ogre only incensed him more. Murder was foremost on his mind as he blocked the goon's only exit.

"Put her down!" Moriarty barked at the man.

"There is a pretty price on this pretty head," the goon laughed. "Why should I?"

"Simple; because I'll make you," Moriarty growled as he sucker punched the goon.

Erika was jostled with the goon at the impact of the punch. She felt the goon shove her away. Erika smashed into her bed. Wincing, she sat down and tried to get her bearings. Looking up, she watched as Moriarty and the goon exchanged blows. Erika looked around for something she could use as a weapon.

Spotting an ugly vase she received once, she grabbed it and approached the brawling boys. She shuddered at the look of rage on the Professor's face. It surprised her enough she nearly dropped the vase. Instead she looked away and tightened her grip. The goon began to fight back and Moriarty took a few hits.

The goon pulled his fist back to punch Moriarty's face, "Any last words?"

"Oui," Erika growled, "Good night."

With that said, Erika swung the vase as hard as she could. The goon was turning when it connected with his temple. He fell forward where he was greeted by Moriarty's fist. Soon an inky blackness took over the goon's senses. Moriarty pushed the goon's limp body to the side as he stared at Erika.

Erika felt her heart speed up under his gaze. Erika stepped back as he stood up. She was grateful but wary of him. Moriarty looked away as he hefted the goon up. Unceremoniously he flung him into the hallway and shut the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned toward him and felt the punch in his gut.

Erika stood, uncertain of what he was staring at. Absently she played with a golden ring that hung around her neck from a gold chain. Moriarty's eyes swept over her. She was definitely tousled from the attack. Her robe was hanging off one of her creamy white shoulders. Moriarty stared at her face as he walked towards her. Erika remained frozen until he was right in front of her.

"Who was he?" Moriarty asked firmly.

"One of the Count's men."

"So you are Erika Noir."

"I was her once. She died six years ago."

Moriarty just nodded before he scooped her up into a kiss. Erika stiffened for a moment before relaxing into it. Her fingers gripped his hair as she held on for dear life. Moriarty's hands did the same to her hips. Her perfume swarmed his sense as he forgot everything in her embrace. Neither one wanted to let go as they stole each other's breath.

"Erika, are you all right?" Nadir shouted as he entered the room and gaped at the sight in front of him.

Smirking, he cleared his throat causing the two to surface. Reluctantly, they let go of each other at the same time. Moriarty growled at Nadir as he stalked out. Erika however, collapsed on the bed. She couldn't believe how defenseless she felt just then. Undecided whether she loved it or hated it, she looked up at Nadir.

"I'm not going to ask," Nadir stated gently. Never had he ever seen his best friend like this. Still smirking, he walked over. It was possible that she was in love.

"He found me, Nadir," Erika groaned as she looked at him, "And it scares me."

-------------------------------------

Lestrade looked out over Paris at night as the hover cab zipped along. She sighed to herself. That was a close call the other day. She wasn't sure who her savior was, but she owed them. It took a lot of pleading and arguing to talk Holmes out of paying the Count a visit. When those didn't work, she point blank threatened him.

Lestrade worried about this lead Holmes had. Granted she hardly looked like herself but one of the many prostitutes that she was use to deal with in New London. Holmes definitely looked like a thug trying to look like a something else. However it was necessary, considering they were walking right into the lion's den of Underground elite. It was mind numbing about how many masks these people had. First the Count, then Erika, and now Leroux. She only hoped Leroux wouldn't expose them, if he was there tonight. Some much was changing in this case and for the first time she wondered if they were over their heads.

As the cab landed, Holmes straightened in his seat. He gave her one of his patented smiles that seemed to make her breath catch. Lestrade beamed back to let him know she was fine. Holmes gracefully exited and helped Lestrade out. Lestrade hoped they found out a few things about Erika here.

Holmes kept a grip on Lestrade's hand as they entered the De Chagny Estate home. It was stately manor filled to the brim with revelers and party goers. Holmes recognized a few infamous criminals as he and Lestrade made their way through the rough and rowdy crowd. Holmes felt Lestrade grip his arm tighter as they were jostled around. Holmes mouthed to her to stay in her role. Lestrade nodded nervously as she looked around the crowd and ran right into Leroux.

"Sorry, mademoiselle." Leroux smiled.

Lestrade stared at Leroux unsure of what to say. Unfortunately in that time, Leroux stared at her and began to recognize her. Lestrade saw the look in his eyes as they widened. She suppressed a groan as Holmes walked up to her side. Both worried if the Surete member would expose them. To their relief Leroux lowered his voice when he addressed them.

"Are you two crazy? You are dead meat if anyone recognizes you." Leroux informed them.

Holmes smirked humorlessly, "You will be a good man and not inform anyone of our real identity, won't you?"

Leroux shook his head, "And Incur the Phantom's wrath? No thank you. I like my head where it is."

Lestrade seized on that, "You work for the Phantom?"

Leroux shrugged, "Most of Paris is on one side or another of the feud. Now keep your voices down. This isn't Phantom friendly territory. The only reason everyone is minding their manners is James Moriarty is watching over everything. For right now you will be my cousin M'sieur Holmes with your girlfriend. That will gain you some confidence around here."

Holmes nodded, "I see. Why are you helping us?"

"Despite what the Phantom told you, you need to trust someone. Better us than the Count. And keep a close eye on Mademoiselle Lestrade. The Count still has designs on her."

With that said Leroux dove back into the crowd. Lestrade watched him go. Leroux had a point but she still wasn't ready to trust any of the players in this game. One look at Holmes told her he felt the same way. Looking around the crowded ballroom, she noticed many famous criminals circulating about. In the middle of the highest ranking group of villains was the Count, enjoying himself. Soon his eyes locked with hers. Lestrade quickly glanced away and continued to survey the room. She spotted Moriarty up in the balconies away from the action. It seemed like he wasn't too impressed with the Count as well. He had some intelligence it seemed.

Moriarty watched from the highest balcony. He couldn't believe he'd listened to Fenwick about coming here. He hated events like this. It was The Count's way of holding Court. Moriarty hated things like this. It allowed for conspiracies and back stabbing taking place. Silently Moriarty noted who to look out for and to come down on. People were trying to take him down all the time. It was best to strike first.

Moriarty gazed over the crowd. His eyes spotted Holmes and Lestrade circulating talking with different people. Scowling, he moved back when Holmes looked up. Moriarty returned when he was sure Holmes had looked away. He looked over to see the Count de Chagny standing on the far side of the ballroom. He was talking with several well-known corrupt officials and crime lords. Moriarty frowned at this. The man was too ambitious by half. With the death of his younger brother, one would think he would go into hiding to protect himself. Instead he was out and about bold as one could be. It was as if he was flaunting himself, daring any one to challenge him. And that was dangerous to Moriarty. He would have to bring him down a few notches. Moriarty smirked maybe use the Phantom, De Chagny's sworn enemy to do so. Which meant Moriarty would have to see Erika again.

He wouldn't mind this party if he didn't have to do it alone. He could have his pick of all these women in the crowd below, yet the one that he wanted was in a dingy club across town. His mind began to wander back to Erika standing in her dressing room in an unguarded moment. It was then that they both tasted what they could be together. It terrified Moriarty and yet it tempted him. Here was a woman, he could rule with. After all, one only had to look at the merry little chase she lead not only him but all of Paris on to see she was cunning and devious. The Perfect Josephine to his Napoleon. This thought entertained Moriarty enough that he didn't hear someone step beside him.

"Good evening, Professor Moriarty." a husky voice called to him.

Moriarty was pulled from his little daydream by the voice. Scowling he growled, "I left strict orders not to be bothered."

"Oh yes, your goons definitely mentioned that. But I persuaded them otherwise." the voice stated.

Moriarty turned to glare at his visitor. Standing in the entranceway of the balcony was a trim and fit young woman in a red and gold can-can dress. The dress tastefully showed off her body and accented her legs. Moriarty had seen many can-can girls at the party but none looked as elegant or as graceful at the one in his way. Red and gold ribbons were scattered through out the chocolate curls of her hair. Her mask was painted like that of a skeleton with bright blue orbs glowing underneath. Moriarty looked her over slowly as he couldn't believe she was here.

Moriarty glance down to see if The Count had spotted her yet. Ruelle was currently occupied by another target as he made his way through the crowds. Moriarty frowned as he noticed him walking towards Lestrade. Lestrade didn't see the danger as she spoke with a group of very well known courtesans. Moriarty glanced to where Holmes was talked to three very well known dons in the Italian Underworld. None of the three seem to recognize the Detective. Moriarty growled to himself. Obviously he needed to have a talking to his men about not talking with the obvious enemy. He was about to storm down when he felt Erika put a hand on his arm.

"Now, now Professor, this is a night of deception. Don't ruin it with business." Erika smiled as looked out over everything with him.

"What are you doing here?" Moriarty asked as he gazed at her.

"Scouting. Why are you hiding from your adoring public?"

"Because I really don't feel like dealing with them. Besides I don't trust The Count De Chagny."

"A wise move. He is very devious. Smiles at you one moment, plunges a knife in your back the next."

"Experience talking, chère?"

"Oui, I learned my lesson very well. Trust no one except those who know you best. No one tried to defend Papa or myself afterwards. They ran to the Count begging for his favor. A few even tried to bring me to him so he could finish the job. They used their police and officials connections to make me vulnerable in the months following the murder. But they failed."

"You disappeared from Paris with The Phantom's help and then he disappeared as well."

Erika stiffened, "One could say that. But I never forgot Paris's betrayal. I decided to make them pay in the worst way possible, by sabotaging every operation these fools planned. And soon they will be begging for my favors with the Phantom's help. You must know by now that The Phantom wants nothing more than complete control of the Parisian Underground."

Moriarty stared at Erika's profile as she gazed heatedly at the floor below. This confession was a deadly gamble on her part. He had destroyed his underlings for less. Here was this young woman who tormented and teased him telling him she had designs on a portion of his Criminal Empire. Her only motivation for it was revenge on a world that helped destroyed her father. Moriarty could respect her reasons. At times he missed his family greatly. Nowadays, his only family was Fenwick and that wasn't saying much. Sure he thought of Fenwick like a father but he would never avenge him like Erika was doing with her own father.

As he gazed at the dark beauty beside him, Moriarty wondered what Erik would have wanted for his daughter. From what he heard it wasn't this life. Erik seemed to want a secure and peaceful life for his daughter and seemingly only child. Moriarty wondered about that. There was no birth record for Erika Noir in the Interpol database and the one for Erika Daae held a DNA sample that didn't match the one he got off of Erika. It was like she was a ghost, not really here. A sad and lonely existence Moriarty imagined. Maybe that's why she fell for The Count's mask of love and acceptance.

However she was risking her neck by challenge him and the Count. Several of his underlings demanded a chance to catch the Phantom. Moriarty delayed them saying he would prefer dealing with this threat himself, which was the truth since he didn't want Erika batting her eyes at anyone else but him. So he decided to do this the hard way by pursuing her himself and pray she would lead him to the Phantom. However he was seeing she wasn't about to do that. The Phantom could give her the vengeance she craved. Moriarty could do that as well.

"Erika, I can give you all that and more." Moriarty spoke after the long silence.

Erika looked at him, "What are you saying?"

"Become my queen, Erika." Moriarty smiled warming up to the idea, pressed a kiss to her hand, "You can rule over this world with me. Everything you ever wanted will be yours."

Erika smiled amused, "Even you?"

"Yes, even me." Moriarty grinned, definitely liking this idea now, "You will be my Josephine of Crime."

Erika's smile went sad, "You deserve better than me. I have no pedigree or dowry to give you like all the debutantes out there can."

Moriarty caught her chin with his hand gently, "But none of them are like you, Erika. I have no pedigree either in the way you mean. I'm a ghost from the past much like you."

Before Erika could protest further, Moriarty gently laid a kiss on her lips. It was soft and gentle, a complete opposite of the one that they shared in her dressing room the night before. Moriarty loosely held her to him. He didn't even hear the murmurs from below as several people noticed their fearless leader kissing a young woman. For it was the first time Moriarty had ever showed an outgoing interest in a woman before.

The Count paused and gritted his teeth as he watched. That was Erika in the Professor's arms. He was almost sure of it. So his henchman was right, The Napoleon of Crime did have designs on her. He would have to turn up the heat on Erika before she turned Moriarty against him. It was time to up the bounty on Erika's head. The Count turned to where Lestrade was standing ignoring the display going on high in the balcony. She was alone it seemed. The Count grinned as he made his way to her.

Erika gently eased away from Moriarty's kiss. Who was this man who turned her emotions all around? She gazed into his gray eyes as if to divine the truth. They truly were alike in many ways. Erika smiled gently. She couldn't accept, couldn't put him in the middle of this fight. He had a job to do and so did she. Feeling brave she touched his jaw softly. Moriarty smiled brightly thinking he had triumphed finally.

"I can't accept, Professor." Erika informed him, "I must prove myself my way."

Moriarty stared at her in disbelief, "Excuse me?"

"It is a generous offer and if you gave it to me shortly after my father died I would have accepted. However, I am much older now. I would be your lackey, Professor, not your equal. If I give my heart again I want it to be with a man who sees me as an equal no more and no less."

"Women would have killed for such an offer."

Erika smirked as she backed away, "Ah but Professor, I'm not like the other women down there. You know that or you would never have bothered with me. Again, it is a very generous offer, but I must decline for now. This game is too dangerous to risk yourself. As you have stated, you are too important to the Criminal world to lose."

Erika smiled and hurried out before Moriarty could make rebuttal. Moriarty blinked for a moment trying to register her words. She wasn't about to do what he thought she was going to do. He hurried out into the hallway only to be greeted with nothing more than empty space. Moriarty fully stepped out to find his two best goons out cold in the hallway. He smirked, as he surveyed the damage that Erika must have done. Equal ground eh? Somehow that wasn't going to be a problem.

Lestrade heard the murmurs around her about The Napoleon of Crime and his unknown sweetheart. She snorted to herself and decided not even give the spectacle a glance. After all she on a case and the current young women she was talking to were being very helpful. Courtesans were very observant about things around them. Some of her best information came from these ladies on the night. Lestrade just had to keep her mask in place as she talked with them.

Lestrade continued the flow of conversation with the girls and learned many things. First that De Chagny and the Phantom have always struggled for dominance in The Underground, a feud that each generation resulted in the death of either a Noir woman or a De Chagny male. Many in the Underground believed that the younger De Chagny was the most recent victim of the feud. However no one could for sure say if Erika was even alive. The poor thing went crazy with grief and guilt that many believed that she killed herself. After all she virtually disappeared that not even The Count could find her.

Lestrade had a few theories about where Erika went during that time. However she kept those opinions to herself. She didn't want to tip her hand to either the Count or Moriarty. She had been hearing rumors all over the place that Moriarty was searching for the missing Noir Girl as well. It seems she was the key to this whole mystery. If only Lestrade and Holmes could find her long enough to get to talk with them.

Lestrade's thoughts were interrupted when a hand fell on her shoulder. Smiling she turned expecting to see an impatient Holmes. Instead a charming matador was standing there. Lestrade scowled at the Count as she shrugged his hand off of her. Frantically she glanced around looking for Holmes. She didn't want to deal with this madman alone, especially not after what he tried to pull in the cemetery with her. Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. He could unmask her easily and then there would be serious trouble then.

"Ah Beth, There you are." The Count purred motioning the others away which the ladies obeyed immediately, "I must apologize for my behavior earlier. I simply lose my head."

Lestrade shoved away, "You'll lose more than that if you touch me again."

"Ah, But chère you must know how beautiful you are. I meant no harm."

Lestrade whirled on him, "Like Hell you didn't. Drugging a woman isn't the way to do things. Is that how you did to Erika Noir! Drug her so you could break her?"

The Count looked uneasy as several eyes fell on them. Lestrade had a feeling she hit a nerve with everyone and for a moment worried if she revealed her identity. However when she looked around, she noticed the stares were on the Count. Lestrade glared at him, feeling empowered by the support. Granted it wasn't the best but it seemed as if everyone knew what had happened to Erika.

The Count tried to continue his façade, "You don't know the whole story. She was threatening me."

"With what? It wasn't like you had the power to stop it. Instead you commit murder." Lestrade flung back.

The Count went from shock to disbelief to anger in very little time. Lestrade stood her ground. She said what everyone else was thinking. Steely eyed and strong she waited for the Count to do his worse. Then she felt a hand touch her shoulder. It was warm and familiar. Lestrade knew it was Holmes coming to her aid. Holmes stood next to Lestrade as they both stared down the Count. The Count merely sneered before stalking away. Holmes knew in that moment that they had made a dangerous enemy.

"We need to leave before he exposes us." Holmes whispered.

"Agreed. Let's go." Lestrade nodded.

They started for the door when The Count whirled back around. An insane gleam was in his eyes. Lestrade's throat went dry. He was going to expose them and they were still far from the door. Slowly she went for her ionser. She could feel Holmes stiffen next to her. How were they going to get out of this one?

The Count shouted loudly, "They are Imposters. They are none other than…"

A deep baritone spoke up in that instant, "My guests, Ruelle. I do trust you wouldn't be so rude to them. But then again Scum is scum."

Lestrade and Holmes watched the whole room fall silent at the man at the top of the staircase. A skeleton mask graced its face and a red plumed hat sat at a rakish tilt on his head. Holmes noted the great red overcoat cover at he thought looked like a gold waist coat. But by the gleaming gold it was a hard call. A huge red and gold cape flowed behind him. Lestrade caw the shocked look on The Count's face as he stared at the intruder. Slowly the figure descended the stair case silently like a ghost. Was this the Legendary Phantom?

Holmes studied the figure closely trying to discern certain facts about them. So The Phantom was a live and well. Holmes glanced up to see Moriarty watching the man fascinated. Surely this was quite a gamble to come here and face its two enemies. Holmes gripped Lestrade's hand and slowly pulled her through the crowd. If hostilities broke out, they need to be in a better position to make a strategic retreat. No one dared to stop them as The Phantom addressed the room.

"Why so silent, Good M'sieurs? Did you think I had you left for good? Have you missed me Good M'sieurs?" the Phantom questioned the room at large, "I certainly haven't forgotten you. I remember Paris's betrayal quite well."

The Count spoke up first, "I killed you."

"I was born in darkness little fool. You can't kill darkness. Enjoy your freedom, M'sieurs. It won't last long. The Phantom's memory is quite long and my revenge is even longer."

"I'll make sure you stay dead this time." The Count roared as he pulled out an ionser.

Suddenly the whole crowd seemed frozen as The Count took aim. The Phantom merely drew his sword and waited patiently. Holmes and Lestrade watched in horror as the two stared each other down. Neither combatant would give any ground. Holmes jumped when he heard a barked order from above.

"Ruelle De Chagny, Don't you dare harm him. He is off limits to you." Moriarty roared just as the Count fired.

The Phantom moved quickly. He brought his swords up. The mirrored blade met the blast and sent it hurling back at the Count, who dived out of the way. The Phantom content to have won this round twirled around and walked back up the stairs. At the top he turned around and stared down every face. There was neither humor nor mercy in his gaze. All of the Paris Underground froze in fear of what was next. They too remembered their neglect in keeping honor among themselves.

The Phantom smirked evilly, "Remember and pray for mercy. You have driven the last of it out of me."

With that said, The Phantom disappeared in a fury of smoke and fire. Soon it cleared and the physical form of the Phantom was gone. However his presence still lingered and several criminal for the first time began to question their decision. The Count stood up and glared as several associates began to back away. The Count glared around. So the silly fool thought it could ruin him so easily. They'll see what he was capable of.

"A million credits to the man who brings me either The Phantom's head or Erika Noir's." The Count declared.

Moriarty growled loudly drawing every eye to his balcony. The Count looked at him defiantly. The Count knew Erika was set on bedding The Napoleon of Crime, but Ruelle will teach her the folly of crossing him. He will make her pay. Regardless of what her lover said.

"I forbid anyone from trying. The Phantom is mine to deal with. Anyone who touched either him or the Noir girl will die." Moriarty declared.

The whole room was a buzzed with the new of their leader's proclamation. Holmes watched as the steaming Count turned and exited the room. He only paused long enough to order his men about. Holmes watched as several thugs moved quickly. There were only two possibilities; he was going to expose them or he was going after the Phantom. Holmes turned to Lestrade urgently.

"Lestrade did you ever tell The Count about our suspicions about the singer at the Club? About her possibly being Erika Noir?" Holmes questioned her quickly.

"I might have. Why?" Lestrade stated.

Holmes gripped her hand and pulled her out, "The Count is in quite a hurry."

"He is going to the Club to confront her." Lestrade realized.

"Or harm her. I don't know exactly who the enemy in this game is, Lestrade, but if he does confront her, she will disappear again. She is the key to everything."

Lestrade nodded as they hurried away from the De Chagny Estate. Everything seemed to point to Erika. Holmes was right about that. Lestrade only hoped they weren't making the miscalculation of trusting her too soon. After all it seemed Erika was just as guilty as the other parties involved. Indeed if she did kill the younger brother, she was more dangerous than she seemed. Lestrade prayed they weren't in over their heads as they stepped into the cab.

Meanwhile, Moriarty noticed The Count leaving. The fool wasn't going to defy him was he? Moriarty Snarled again as he turned and exited the balcony. For once he wanted flunkies who actually listened to an order. He casually trailed behind the Count. If he went to the Club, Moriarty was really going to kill him. It wasn't like he felt protective towards Erika. He just hated it when his underlings refused to listen to a direct command. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 10 - Untouchable Masks

The cab raced along the gleaming streets of Paris as fast as its driver would let it. The driver glanced in the window at its passengers. The woman looked very worried almost guilt-ridden. Her violet eyes darted out the window every so often while her finger toyed with the hem of her costume. The cabbie thought she was very beautiful. Why the m'sieur was taking her to a place like a nightclub instead of his flat was a mystery. Well, to each his own.

Holmes was slowly losing his patience with how long the ride was taking. Erika was in danger. Hell, by now she could be dead. He was a bit angry with Lestrade. After all, he had asked her not to tell the Count about the club. Yet she still did it. She couldn't even respect his wishes. However, he couldn't yell at her. She'd had a scare in the graveyard. At least now she knew what kind of man the Count was.

Holmes paid the cab's driver generously and jumped out as it stopped in front of the club. Lestrade gathered up the skirt of her costume and ran after him. She smiled at the cabbie before disappearing into the crowd around the club. The cabbie once more thought about what a waste and pulled away.

Holmes stood in the back, veiled in the shadows. Lestrade quickly joined him. Holmes pulled them deeper into the shadows as she began to recognize several wanted criminals. Her eyes lit on Moriarty standing off the side, glaring daggers at someone. How the hell did he beat them here? Lestrade moved closer to Holmes. If they were discovered they were dead.

Lestrade soon spotted the Count sitting at a table near the front. He looked impatient and very hostile as he glanced around the club. His gaze became very murderous when he looked in the direction of an Arabian man who stood stiffly to the side and gave the Count a very cool and level gaze back.

Lestrade turned to Holmes to see if he noticed the animosity. Holmes watched the whole scene, very intrigued. For the first time he could see all of the pieces, and realized it was like a human chess game. He looked down as Lestrade tugged on his sleeve to gain his attention.

"Holmes, who is that Arabian man that the Count is glaring at?" Lestrade asked

"His name is Nadir Khan. He is the head bouncer and Mademoiselle Daae's bodyguard," Holmes whispered as the lights dimmed. "He is a force that no one wants to reckon with."

Suddenly the band began to playing. The audience quieted down to a dull din as Erika appeared and sat at a small table with one chair. Her costume was a red and gold can-can dress that skimmed her upper thighs. Her face was without its earlier mask. Her curly hair was pulled up high and secured by a gold ribbon. A red one graced her throat. She gave a coy smile to the audience. Holmes noticed it was really directed at the Count.

Erika made sure she had the Count's full attention. His eyes seemed to bug out when he saw that she really had grown up. Good. She wanted him to see what he had tried to destroy. Tonight she was going to strip away his mask and expose what kind of a fool he really was. With that goal in her mind she leaned forward to the audience and began to sing.

_You have to understand the way I am,_ _Mein Herr._

_A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb._ _Mein Herr._

_You'll never turn the vinegar to jam,_ _Mein Herr._

_So I do..._

_What I do..._

_When I'm through..._

_Then I'm through..._

_And I'm through..._

_Toodle-oo!_

Ruelle watched, fascinated by the woman in front of him. He knew her rich, husky voice as it poured over the air like a fine aged wine. As he chased her to the club, he'd thought she was still like the girl he seduced six years ago. Now he could see the girl was gone. As he watched her cross and uncross her leg seductively to the rhythm of the music, he felt the room start to close in on him.

_Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr._

_Farewell, mein Lieber Herr._

_It was a fine affair,_ _But now it's over._

_And though I used to care,_

_I need the open air._

_You're better off without me,_ _Mein Herr._

_Don't dab your eye, mein Herr,_

_Or wonder why, Mein Herr._

_I've always told you I was a rover._

_You mustn't knit your brow,_

_You should have known by now_

_You'd every cause to doubt me,_ _Mein, Herr._

Erika slowly stood up and walked to the Count's table. Gracefully, she sat on it with her back to the dance floor. Picking up the Count's partial glass, she gave the audience a flirty smile as she ignored the Count's gaping mouth. Erika pressed the glass to the hollow of her neck. As she sang, it would slide up and down. Erika wanted to laugh as she caught Moriarty's reverent gaze. Instead she smiled in her usual sly way.

_T__he continent of Europe is so wide,_ _Mein Herr._

_Not only up and down, but side to side,_ _Mein Herr._

_I couldn't ever cross it if I tried,_ _Mein Herr._

_So I do..._

_What I can..._

_Inch by inch..._

_Step by step..._

_Mile by mile..._

_Man by man._

Erika gently put the cup back down bringing Ruelle's eyes to her face. He brought his face closer to her. He fell into her blue eyes. Suddenly, she was off the table and dancing with the other girls singing. Ruelle had a hard time ripping his eyes away from her kicking legs.

_Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr._

_Farewell, mein Lieber Herr._

_It was a fine affair,_ _But now it's over._

_And though I used to care,_

_I need the open air._

_You're better off without me,_ _Mein Herr._

Ruelle jumped as Erika's foot landed in between his legs. Ruelle's one hand gripped the table as his eyes traveled up her leg and her chest to her face. His fingers itched to grab her and carry her off. However, her eyes stopped him. They looked at him with such loathing.

_Don't dab your eye, mein Herr,_

_Or wonder why, Mein Herr._

_I've always told you I was a rover._

_You mustn't knit your brow,_

_You should have known by now_

_You'd every cause to doubt me,_ _Mein, Herr._

_You're better off __Without me, _

_You'll get on __Without me __Mein._

_Herr... __Herr... _

Erika spun away and curtsied to the applause of the crowd. She gave Ruelle a go to hell look as she stood up. Brown met blue in a battle of wills until Erika haughtily turned around and walked away. Ruelle looked shocked at such insolence. He quickly stood up and walked after her.

Moriarty smirked as both Nadir and Josef blocked the Count's progress. Ruelle started threatening both men very loudly. Moriarty glanced after Erika, who seemed undisturbed by the outburst. Moriarty felt the urge to follow her and started after her.

Holmes watched as the Count was escorted out of the club. He wondered if Erika was okay. She had purposely challenged the Count twice tonight and won both times. But how long would she win? She needed to be careful or all could be lost. Holmes looked at Lestrade, who watched as well, as the Count was unceremoniously thrown out into the street.

Lestrade tugged on Holmes's sleeve. Her eyes seem to convey that she felt they'd stayed long enough. Holmes looked towards the way backstage. By now several of the security swarmed around it. Holmes grinned. The Count wouldn't make it back there tonight. Gently, he took Lestrade's arm. Lestrade looked at him as he led her out as discreetly as he could.

"Don't worry. She is safe for now," Holmes whispered.

"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked softly as they stepped outside and into the light rain.

Holmes took a deep breath as he turned Lestrade towards him. Tenderly, he settled his hands on her waist. Lestrade stiffened slightly but Holmes refused to remove them. He waited until Lestrade looked at him. Blue eyes met violet ones in the misty rain. Resisting the urge to kiss her again, Holmes put his hands on her shoulders and smiled.

"She will be fine," Holmes assured her, "She is protected here. I think we should have her followed when she does leave."

Lestrade nodded dumbly. "It may provide us with some answers."

Holmes grinned as he hailed a cab. "Right now, let's go back to the hotel and rest."

-------------------

Moriarty walked through the backstage area. He watched as Erika was being waylaid by several of the dancers and staff. They congratulated her on a job well done. Erika gracefully and tactfully accepted as she tried to slip away. Eventually she reached her dressing room and quickly entered, shutting the door behind her.

Moriarty smiled as he went to walk towards it. She had trapped herself for him perfectly. That door was the only way out. Moriarty smiled to himself as he thought about the last few times he'd caught her off guard. He licked his lips as he remembered that desperate kiss they shared just the other day. Using his skill, he dodged the hopeful dancers who tried to catch his attention.

Soon he stood outside Erika's door. He was about to knock when he heard two voices inside. One he knew was Erika's. The other was very familiar, but Moriarty couldn't place it. After looking around to be sure no one was watching, he leaned closer to listen.

"Excellent job tonight, my dear," the tenor voice praised, "You really got under his skin."

"Thank you. I try my best. It's just I hate this waiting." Erika sighed. "I'm tired of it all. I want to rest."

"You will, chère. I swear to you that when Erik is avenged, you can truly rest."

"Thank you, my friend."

Moriarty felt his hand reach for the doorknob. He knew that voice. In fact, he despised that voice. Something about it stated to him that he should despise it. Deep inside a dark feeling began to bubble up. Moriarty tried to force it down as he listened intently and was surprised when his name came up.

"I heard that you picked up a new admirer. He is in the audience every night. Professor James Moriarty seems to fancy you," the tenor observed calmly.

"I doubt that. I'm just another chit to him. One he can use to an end," Erika spoke up quickly.

"I know he thinks you can lead him to me and he is right, but I think his interest in you is beyond that."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Simple. The kiss you two shared in here."

"He probably gets it all the time. I'm nothing special."

"I'll hold the final judgment on that. He is determined to break our connection." The tenor's tone went very soft like a caress. "Is that what you want? For me to go away?"

"No," Erika whispered in reply, "I would never want you to leave me. We are a team."

Erika's voice held a shiver that shook Moriarty's very core. He closed his eyes to bring the maelstrom of emotions that whipped through his soul back under his tight control. In his mind he could see the Phantom gently caressing Erika's creamy skin before maybe planting a kiss on it. His eyes snapped open with fury swirling in their stormy depths. He grabbed the doorknob and tried to open it. The door refused to open with the lock in place.

"We are that," the Phantom's voice stated smugly, "No one will separate us. Come, ma chère, you need to lie down and rest."

"Yes, my maestro," Erika stated gently.

Moriarty rammed his shoulder against the door and lock. It was the Phantom in there. Moriarty wanted to confront him and Erika together. As he hit the door a third time, the lock gave way and the door swung open. Moriarty rushed in and watched the most amazing thing.

Erika was partway through the mirror when he entered. The glass looked like liquid mercury as she passed through. Moriarty felt his jaw hang open as she turned around and looked at him with a vacant look in her blue eyes. He stepped towards her like he was in a trance as well.

Just as he reached for the mirror, the vision was gone as the glass became hard again. Moriarty's fingers brushed the cool smooth surface, forcing him out of his trance. She went through the mirror, he thought over and over again. He pressed his hands against the glass and pushed with all his strength.

"Erika! Phantom!" he shouted at his image as he backed away, "I will find you!"

------------------------------

Ruelle paced around his study furiously. He'd failed to kill her. That fact was made painfully obvious tonight when he saw her dancing. He slammed his fist into the wall. He had to get her out of the club. There she was too well guarded. There must be something she would leave it for.

Ruelle took a long drink from his glass. The alcohol burned down his throat. It felt good to him. Absently, he wondered if Erika ever took a drink in her six years of hiding of preparing. He stared at the glass as if it held all the answers. The damn chit must have someplace where she seeks her solace.

A rage gripped him as he turned over the facts. In truth, he knew nothing of Erika other then their storied past. He knew she was in the club, the graveyard, and possibly the Opera House. It was rumored that the Phantom had a home underneath the theater, but no one knew how to get there. He cursed his great great great great great uncle, The Vicomte, for not recording anything before he died in the riding accident. He should have lived and kept his woman, Christine. Instead ran back to her Phantom and bore him a bloodline. She could have been a comtessa with Philippe. Instead she chose the night. Well the Comte fixed that with a little poison. However, that drop of cyanide started the bloody war. The drop heard around the world. Now that little bitch was alive still and The Phantom as well. He killed them both he was sure of it. Instead they lived and were now after him. How could he fail his bloodline so miserably?

With a roar, he flung the glass at the wall. It slammed against the concrete and shattered into several pieces. Ruelle stared at it, breathing heavily. He must force the bitch's hand. Right now she held all the cards. He needed to shake her up, get under her skin. A thought flashed through his mind. A twisted grin spread across his face. Maybe Erik would be willing to be a pawn again.

Ruelle quickly summoned his goons as he began to draft out his plans. He didn't have long to work. He knew the Detective were now his enemy. No matter they served their purpose. Maybe before He disappeared He could get what he deserved from The Female detective. After all, She would make the perfect playtoy until he was bored. Erika wasn't the only master at potions and brews.

----------------

The Phantom stared into the fire in the hearth of the underground house. Anger licked at its soul like flames at a log. How dare that wretched man. True, it delivered a hell of a blow to the Count by showing him what he missed and scaring away his associates. However, the Count had no right to look at Erika that way. How dare he ever think he had a chance to regain what he tried to kill.

The anger began to well up causing the Phantom to chuck its glass into the hearth. The flames sprung up at the contact of alcohol. The lilac point Siamese perked its head up at the rare show of temper. Its bright blue eyes looked at its owner questioningly. The Phantom ran its slender hand through its messy locks of hair. The game was changing again.

"That worthless conniving scumbag, how dare he even want back what he killed!" the Phantom raged to the listening cat. "I saw it, Ayesha. I saw what he wanted. He doesn't get it. Maybe I should let him have a chance. Let's see how he feels when I slip my sword between his ribs and through his black heart."

Ayesha merely mewed her opinion before curling back up to sleep. The Phantom grinned at the cat. Ayesha was Erik's cat. After his death, Ayesha had refused to leave the Phantom's side. During those lonely and lost six years Ayesha had made sure the Phantom was safe. As did Nadir. With them by its side, there was no way that the Count could win.

Stifling a yawn, the Phantom scooped Ayesha. Tomorrow, it would visit Erik and consult with him on what to do. For now, it needed to rest. The Count wasn't one to wait and then strike.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N Wow only four more chapters to go counting this one. Hehehe Everything is winding up to the thrilling conclusion. Of courese this is anotyher example of me avopiding my thesis paper. Anyways Enjoy the show. Please R and R

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 11- Moonlight Masks.

Moriarty stared around the moonlit garden. Several exotic and beautiful fragrances swarmed his nostrils. The stone walk gleamed in the silvery light. Briefly he wondered how he'd got here from his hideout in Paris. Looking around, it was like he was outside one of the many balls that the ton in the past threw. Sighing, he remembered being bored stiff at them, but he would go because his younger brother insisted that he go. His younger brother, the original Professor James Moriarty, felt it was the best way to find potential victims and intelligence.

Certainly he wasn't his younger brother like that Yardie thought. However he was the Moriarty, the eldest of three brothers. It was his job to protect his family. After all he entered the army to do just that. He was good at taking command, seizing control of the situation, being of the rank of colonel suited him, even when he retired at a young age to help his brother's run their empires, he was still the backbone of them. At times, he did wonder why he let the both of them persuade him to go to Reichenbach Falls in pursuit of Sherlock Holmes.

James growled to himself as he remembered that fight at the falls. He should have waited longer for Holmes, studied his moves longer. The man surprised him with his moves. Whatever it was James expected it wasn't a well trained fighter in baritsu and other forms of hand to hand. James was at a disadvantage in that fight. But he did have the satisfaction of taking Holmes over with him. That made the defeat worth it to him. Now here they were again in the future locked in another struggle. Moriarty wondered if any of his own brother's descendents survived. He asked Fenwick once, but the man told him not to worry about.

So he didn't, instead he decided to build his own empire. He wanted to prove that he could run an army of criminals just as well as his brothers. Except the whole world thought he was his younger brother. It was damning and hard to stand on your own when no one knows who you are. Women in the underworld scrambled for his attention. They wanted the power he held. After all, females haven't changed all that much. But there were two exceptions to that rule. The two exceptions that he couldn't have because they belonged to his rivals.

Inspector Elizabeth Lestrade was definitely the different sort of woman. She was confident, intelligent and a little rough around the edges. She had a no nonsense style that helped her worn down her suspects and allowed her to solve her cases. Moriarty enjoyed watching her work, even if her manners needed some work. She was a mystery. He made several offers for her to join his organization using wealth and power as bait. The woman didn't bite. Several time she was very hostile and down right rude to him. He suspected that she was attracted to Holmes and did everything in his power to make her look like a fool in front of him.

He grinned as he remembered those times. The grin slowly faded as he remembered the woman who made him the fool. She mocked his control and somehow seduced his mind. He knew all about her, her past, her present and yet who she really was eluded him. The answers danced in the far flung shadows of the Opera House. He knew the answers lay there, yet he dreaded going near it. Her protector was there watching him. Moriarty was never Jealous in his whole life until he met Erika and the Phantom that controlled her. Moriarty clenched his fists, he needed to lure Erika away, yet he knew she was safer in the Opera House. The Count lurked near by like a demon waiting to ambush unsuspecting innocent. Moriarty wished it was he she was seeking her comfort from. He knew she was attracted to him as much he was to her. But it was forbidden with the Phantom lurking nearby. Moriarty found himself swearing to kill that man and take Erika away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something stir in the shadows. Breaking away from his thoughts, he turned and walked over towards the movement. Just as he reached the shadows, a pair of blue eyes gleamed at him. Moriarty felt his mouth go dry.

Erika stepped from the shadows, wearing a beautiful blue ballgown. A blue ribbon held her hair up. Moriarty stared at her in awe. She looked like a noblewoman of the ton with her pale bare shoulders and elegant neck.A simple chain and gold ring hung around her neck, a symbol of her loyalty to the Phantom. With a secret smile playing around her lips, she looked him over.

"Bon soir, Professor. The ball isn't to your liking?" she asked softly, sending a shiver over his skin and to his very core.

Stiffly, he answered her, "No, it isn't. Is it to yours?"

Erika smirked as she turned to reenter the shadows. "I wasn't born for them. I was made for more dangerous pursuits."

Moriarty followed her into the shadows. Her own scent of jasmine and myrrh acted like a drug on him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He leaned forward and whispered against her ear.

"You were made for me," Moriarty murmured before he started kissing her neck. For once he was in charge of this seduction.

Erika purred, "Am I? What about the Phantom?"

Moriarty froze for a brief moment before resuming, more intense than before. Damn the Phantom to hell and back. Right now he had Erika in his arms and soon he would have her to himself. Then he would worry about the Phantom and what to do about him. Dismissing the thought from his mind, he pushed Erika deeper into the shadows.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out. Moriarty froze as he felt Erika jerk in his arms. Alarmed, Moriarty pulled away and looked down as Erika looked at him in shock and pain. Unable to identify the feeling that welled in him, Moriarty gently sat down with Erika in his arms. Erika was bleeding badly from several wounds. Moriarty worked frantically to stop the bleeding. He looked up at her attacker.

The man stood half-concealed in the shadows. However, Moriarty recognized him immediately. The Count grinned triumphantly at the dying Erika and an angered Moriarty. His eyes danced with glee.

"I win this round," he proclaimed loudly.

Moriarty let out a roar and lunged at the Count. The Count leveled the gun at him and squeezed the trigger. Moriarty heard the roar of the shot. Then everything went black.

Moriarty woke up tangled in his own sheets. He could still smell Erika's blood as it spilt on him. Groggily he got up from the bed. His mind spinning from the dream, he slowly got dressed. What did it mean?

He knew Erika was being hunted by the Count and there was a bad history between them. She was obviously wasn't too afraid of the Count to openly challenge him twice. Or maybe she didn't really care what he could do to her. Either way, he needed to see Erika again and he wanted answers.

Grumbling, he walked out of his room. He was going to try the club again. Maybe she had returned to her dressing room this morning after leaving with the Phantom. And if she hadn't, he wanted a closer look at that mirror.

-------------------------------------

Holmes looked around the fog-covered field. He'd been in his bed a moment ago, but now he was here, wherever here was. As he slowly moved through the fog, tall stone monuments seemed to loom in front of him. He studied a few and determined them to be tombstones. The carvings had long since eroded away, hiding the identity of the bodies underneath.

As he moved slowly he noticed a figure walking ahead of him. Holmes regarded them intently as if to identify the cloaked figure. The person looked over her shoulder with big expressive blue eyes. Holmes stared at Erika until she turned back around and continued her journey. Hesitantly, he followed her. Something inside wanted him to follow her.

The two walked through the garden of quiet stones. The fog swirled around them as they moved. Neither talked to the other as they moved. Yet Holmes knew Erika wouldn't harm them. So far she had tried to help them with her clues and remedies. He figured she was the one sending those notes to them in the hotel.

Soon they reached a huge crypt. Holmes looked at the structure. It was very old and looked like it dated back to before his own death. Erika stood next to the entrance and motioned him to enter the shadow-filled interior. What was inside that she wanted him to see? Holmes looked at Erika as if to divine the answer in her eyes.

Suddenly the sounds of a struggle reached his ears. Holmes looked into the dark as if to see what was happening inside. The dark stared back at him with concealed eyes. His blood ran cold when he heard Lestrade's voice cry for backup. Swallowing his own uncertainty, he dove into the shadows to help his partner.

Holmes ran through the darkness until he reached a moonlit portion of the tomb. The first thing he saw was Lestrade trying to fend off the Count. The two struggled, heedless of the masked men watching them from the walls. Stark white masks watched the dance with an intense interest, yet none moved to help the Yardie. A rage built up in Holmes. Pulling his cane out, he stalked towards the two combatants.

As the Count aimed his gun at Lestrade, a figure in black burst from the shadows and lunged for the Count. Holmes stood, frozen to the spot, as the Count tried to defend against the masked man. The two dodged and struck at each other in rage and hatred. The figure pulled out a cane, only it wasn't a cane but a sword. It slashed at the Count, who staggered back and aimed at the masked man, who lunged again.

Holmes yelled out; none of the players in front of him acknowledged his presence. The roar of the shot echoed through the crypt as the figure in black fell. Coldly, the Count aimed at the figure and shot it again. Holmes went to move but couldn't. Lestrade got up and went to attack the Count.

Holmes struggled against whatever forces held him as the Count took aim. He watched in horror as Lestrade met the same end. Holmes flinched as he watched the Count shoot her twice. The Count laughed wildly as he disappeared back into the shadows.

Suddenly, Holmes could move and he ran towards Lestrade. He knelt down next to her and tried to treat her wounds. He looked up at the other figure. Erika lay in a pool of her own blood. Holmes ached to help her but he couldn't leave his partner. Both women looked at him for help. Holmes was torn. He could only save one of them. He closed his eyes as he tried to decide.

When he opened his eyes again, Holmes stared at the cream ceiling of the hotel. It was a dream, a very bad but realistic dream. Holmes took a deep breath. Apparently he was feeling conflicted. He wanted to help Erika get free of the Count, but was he leaving Lestrade open to attack? Could he protect both ladies?

Slowly he sat up and looked over at Lestrade's bed. Lestrade was curled on her side and fast asleep. Holmes gave a small smile. At least he didn't wake her. Throwing the covers off, he got up and went through his daily morning routine.

Questions buzzed through his mind. He had been meaning to visit the cemetery since Lestrade's encounter there. Somehow, he would find the answer to something there. Maybe even encounter Erika, the real Erika, there and be able to question her a little easier. She might open up more, away from the club and the possible spies.

Shrugging on his Inverness, he left the hotel room. He might stop at the police station and see how far Leroux had gotten in his search for clues. In some ways, he liked showing up the police authorities. Sometime even Lestrade, although he was nowhere as annoying about it as he was with Grayson or the others. A few times Lestrade would even join him in the gloating, but she was usually a bit subtle about it and they didn't seem to mind it from her. Holmes shrugged; she was one of them, after all.

Lost in his thoughts, Holmes entered the isolated graveyard. He shuddered as he passed the tombstones that kept guard. He recalled his dream as he walked towards the Noir family crypt. He looked up at the nameplate and saw what Lestrade had meant by 'the cards' origin'.

It seemed Erika was trying to communicate with them without drawing suspicion to herself. But she also sent one to the Count. Did she want to taunt him with his failure to silence her? Holmes froze as he stood at the entrance. Was she possibly the murderer? Stepping into the darkness of the crypt, Holmes decided he would get his answers one way or other.

-------------------------

Erika pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, concealing her long brown hair. Gently she tucked a few loose strands deeper in the safety of the hood. Content her hair was hidden from view, she wrapped an old red scarf around the bottom part of her face. Her fingers lovingly traced the heirloom that belonged to Christine Daae, her great-great-great-great grandmother. There was once a time she didn't have to hide her face. However after last night, she needed to be careful. The Count would not hesitate now that he knew for sure she was alive.

Nadir didn't want her out on the street at all. He was angry with her for openly challenging a man like the Count. The Phantom's reputation in the Underworld wasn't cemented yet. Enough people feared the De Chagnies still who would destroy her for him. Erika was of a different opinion. True, the Count was powerful in the Underworld, but his prestige paled next to Professor James Moriarty. Everyone knew he had designs on her, one way or another.

Erika smiled gently to herself. The Professor was a definite catch for her. He was intelligent, strong, and willing to fight back, when he remembered to. She knew he'd figured out her ruse in America and who she once was. Now he was trying to piece together her current situation. She truly hoped he got it before the final act.

Everything was tumbling together now. Leroux was sending in daily reports on the detectives. They were further along this time than they were in America. Erika didn't doubt their intelligence at all. In fact, she found them to be two of the few people she respected. An honor on its own, considering she didn't respect or trust many people since her father's death. It was hard when a man you trusted and respected turns a gun on you and tries to take away everything, including your life. Erika still didn't know why.

She stopped at a small flower cart. Everyone nowadays preferred the genetically altered flowers that bloomed longer and were twice as fragrant. However, Erika liked the original kinds. They were more natural to her. Her father preferred them too. He always bought them from the street sellers who couldn't afford the latest in botany. Erika continued the tradition when she could.

Deftly, she picked a white rose and an artificially dyed black one. She paid the seller with a generous tip. Erika walked away with a small wave and continued down the Rue Scribe to the cemetery. The dawn's light began to creep on to the sleepy street. High overhead, she could hear the sound of the hover cars.

She loved the peace of Paris in the morning. Erika smiled as she walked along. Even in her years of hiding beneath the Opera House, she would dream of this time of day. She almost had gone into hiding a second time when she was attacked in the club. Professor Moriarty had helped her and stopped her from running.

Standing outside the cemetery gate, Erika pressed her fingers to her lips. Never in her life had she felt such desperation to kiss someone, and enjoyed it. It thrilled her to know she could still be affected by a simple kiss. For so long she was afraid when the Count shot her that he indeed had hit her heart and killed any chance of a future romance. But that simple kiss proved it wrong. It was ironic that all her teasing and near-seduction didn't accomplish what that simple and desperate kiss proved. She felt awake for the first time since the Count's betrayal.

It scared her too. Pushing through the gate, it scared her that she felt something for the Professor. After all, he was a rival in the Underworld. He also wanted her to pay for spoiling his plans in America. Erika smirked; America had been great fun. Especially once she got under his skin. She enjoyed getting under his skin; it was refreshing to know she could disturb a man the way she seemed to disturb the Professor.

Erika was lost in her thoughts as she walked towards the crypt. She didn't notice that there were two figures following her. Each were unaware of the other as they followed the woman in the black cloak.

Moriarty had spotted her at the flower cart buying the roses. Mentally, he noted the types she bought. He knew it was her. Just her stance and the way she held herself was enough to tell. Deciding it was the perfect chance to truly catch her alone, Moriarty followed her to the cemetery.

As he followed her, he found he liked the way she walked naturally. She walked like a queen, unwillingly to give an inch unless she deemed it worthy. Moriarty licked his lips to moisten them. She would definitely be interesting to court if this were the old days. She would be one of the few females whom he could enjoy mentally and physically. Too bad she had to challenge him like she had in America. Although she seemed to have many talents, so he could be persuaded to let her join his gang after he killed the Phantom.

The Phantom was another man that Moriarty couldn't stand, like Holmes. He was an upstart that Moriarty longed to snuff out. If only he could find him and corner him, Moriarty would truly be content as he tortured the man. After all, he had Erika, probably in every way possible. Green was not Moriarty's favorite color but he was seeing lots of it when he thought about Erika with the Phantom.

Ruelle watched as Erika entered the graveyard. Who did the chit think she was fooling in that cloak? But she seemed to be on her own. Ruelle looked for her constant bodyguard but the Arab was absent. Ruelle grinned deviously; she was still a little fool. Ruelle stalked after her. She was giving him an all-too-perfect opportunity to finish what he started.

He didn't care what the Underworld was saying about Moriarty's interest in the chit. She was probably warming his bed for protection. Ruelle snorted; all the good that clonehead could do for her. Even now, she was out and about alone. No one was there to protect the girl from him. It was too perfect, too easy.

-----------------------------

Holmes walked around the dimly lit tomb. He felt as if he were trespassing in this resting place of the previous Phantoms. Yet he was now convinced that Erika was indeed a true blooded Noir who was a victim of the great feud. As he inspected the death dates, he noticed the wives of each Phantom had died long before their husbands. Was that part of the feud? That the Noir women died first? Even Christine Daae had died at the tender age of thirty-five, under strange circumstances. Holmes wondered how the de Chagny family's death dates lined up to these.

Holmes ran a finger along the newest marker. Erik Noir V was laid beside his wife. The man was murdered in cold blood, much like Raoul de Chagny. Did Erik know Raoul? Would he have wept over the boy's death? How many more lives would be taken in this fight?

Holmes dropped his hand and walked over to the eldest set. Erik Noir's name stared out at him. Holmes had followed the case closely during his first lifetime. He often hoped to talk to the mysterious genius that hid away from the world. However Fate had other ideas; all interest in the case suddenly stopped after Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny, died in a riding accident and Christine returned to the world of music. Philippe, the Count de Chagny, was outraged but kept it to himself when his rants fell on deaf ears. Holmes wondered if he blamed Christine for his brother's death. That would explain the early deaths of the Noir women.

Holmes froze as he heard the crypt door slowly creak open. He thought for a moment to stay where he was and meet Erika, or whoever was coming in, head-on. A part of him screamed out that she might not be happy to find him here and would get suspicious. That would mean she wouldn't be willing to talk to him about anything. Making a quick decision, Holmes dove into the shadows and behind a few wide pillars.

Erika entered the crypt silently out of respect for the people who were laid to rest there. After making sure it was safe, she pulled down the hood, revealing her hair and face. Loosening the scarf, her sad smile was revealed to the world. She gently walked to the eldest marker and repeated a prayer softly in French. Holmes smiled at how musical it sounded in her native tongue.

Erika curtsied to the original Phantom before moving to her father and mother's marker. She pulled out the roses and placed them on the shelf in front of the markers. Stepping back, her hand wiped the tears from her eyes. It was still very hard to imagine her gentle loving father gone.

"Bonjour, Papa." Erika smiled softly at the marker. "It has started. I know how much you wanted the fighting to end, but peace doesn't look like it is in our future. I know you never approved of the feud. But as long as there are de Chagnies and Noirs in Paris, it is our fate to strike at each other."

Erika took a deep breath and continued on. "Everything is happening so fast now. Nadir is very nervous because the Count is still a powerful figure in the criminal underworld. He is afraid that the Count will try to silence me like he did six years ago. But I'm not afraid, Papa. I'm tired of all the hiding so I'm taking a stand. I will end this whole farce. I promise you that much."

Holmes peeked around the corner. Erika took a moment to compose herself. That last statement came out like a growl. There was definitely bad blood here. Holmes almost stepped out to make himself known; then he felt another at the door of the crypt.

The Count's eye only saw the back of Erika's head; she was still looking at her father's marker. As the Count approached her, Erika's body stiffened as she finally sensed the intrusion. Holmes watched as her hand tightened around an object. Her blue eyes grew dark as she slowly turned and stared down the Count. Her cloak parted enough to reveal a black corset dress.

The Count smiled confidently, thinking they were alone. "Hello, Erika. You look ravishing this morning."

Erika growled darkly, "You already disgraced this place once with your presence."

"You can't still be bitter about that little incident. Not after all we shared -- and we could share it again."

"You are deluded if you think I would ever let you touch me again," Erika spat as she took a step back to keep space between them.

The Count chuckled quietly as Erika walked herself into a corner, "But you will, my dear. Things must be getting very hot for you right now with the great detective on your trail. I can call him off."

Erika slapped his hand away as he reached for her face. "Keep your hands to yourself. I don't deal with mongrels. Not matter how highbred they think they are."

"Feisty as ever." The Count grinned as he pinned her against the wall. "You were always very spirited in bed. It's my hope you still are."

Erika looked him in the eye and demanded, "It wasn't enough for you. You still tried to destroy me. Why, Ruelle?"

Ruelle smirked. "You were absolutely fascinating in every way a man wanted a woman to be fascinating, but you weren't marriage material. You were only worth being a mistress, and even that's being generous to a Noir woman."

Erika's eyes went very dark. A smile flitted across her lips before she kneed the Count in the groin. The Count immediately fell to his knees, giving Erika a chance to escape. Erika ran around him. She stopped to retrieve her red scarf that had fallen where she tried to get away the first time.

It proved to be a mistake. As soon as Erika picked it up, the Count grabbed her. Rage blazed in his eyes as he tightened his grip on her. Erika cried out in slight pain. She struggled against his hold, which made him grip even tighter. Erika looked up and saw Moriarty watching from the shadows. How much had he heard? The Count noticed her attention was wavering, so he twisted her arm viciously.

The Count grinned evilly at her pain-filled cry. "You never learned when I killed your father, did you? You should never ever cross me, you little whore. I know you are sleeping with the supposed Napoleon of Crime. But he can't protect you from me. You are just another conquest. Another chit to bed. You should have died like I wanted you too, then none of this would have happened. But you didn't. I won't say I would be against rolling with you again."

Erika gritted out, "I'll send you to hell myself, de Chagny."

The Count laughed loudly. "You can try. But I'll win in the end. I always do."

Holmes had had enough of this. Pulling out his cane, he formulated a plan of action. He needed the Count to let go of Erika. Holmes couldn't strike until Erika was safely out of harm's way. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out to try and get the drop on the Count.

Moriarty clenched his fists as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. Jealousy rose quickly in him when he heard that Erika and the Count were lovers once. He flinched as he heard her painful cries and demands of release. Moriarty had enough. This man was going to pay for the insult to his reputation. He stepped out and walked purposefully towards the Count.

The Count looked up at the series of sounds. Sensing a fight was coming; he shoved Erika to the ground and took a fighting stance. Insanity gleamed in his brown eyes as he glanced between the two intruders. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Erika hit the stone floor with a thud. Indignity boiled up in her but she was also thankful that the Count had let her go. She turned to look up at him and shuddered at the look in his eyes. Feeling the strong urge to get away, Erika scrambled back until she was safely hidden in the shadows. She watched as both men lunged at the Count at the same time. The Count, sensing he was greatly outnumbered and outmatched, scrambled back. Both men rammed into each other and seemed shocked by the other's presence. The Count ran out of the crypt in that moment of distraction. Erika began to inch toward a darkened corner.

Both men stared at each other as if to assure themselves that the other was real. Once it clicked in their heads that the other was really there, they lunged for each other. A few minutes passed of the two men struggling with each other, trading blows.

Suddenly the sound of stone scraping against stone reached their ears. The two combatants separated and turned towards the sound. Holmes soon noticed that both the Count and Erika were gone. He turned to where Moriarty once was, to see that he too was gone.

Holmes stood in the tomb and took stock. It seemed that Erika and the Count were once very close. Holmes suppressed the urge to grimace at the thought of that relationship. Obviously the Count ended it in favor of a better match. He must have found Erika to be a liability, and since she was a Noir, he felt killing her was the best way to rid himself of it.

Holmes slowly walked to the door of the tomb. Lestrade would be up by now and wondering where he was. A smile flashed over his lips. She usually got frustrated when he went his own way. Maybe the knowledge he'd gathered would appease her enough to not seek revenge. But Holmes highly doubted it.


	12. Chapter 12

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 12- Turnabout isn't Very Fair.

Lestrade leaned against the lamppost across from The Rose et Masque Rouges. She knew Holmes wouldn't approve of her idea, but so far they haven't gotten anything out of the elusive Mademoiselle Noir. Lestrade hoped that maybe Erika was just wary of men. Maybe she would talk to another woman. There was something about sharing your secrets with another female, a sort of natural understanding. The only draw back was trying to reach the singer. Lestrade couldn't just walk into the club, not with half the Parisian Criminal underground sitting in those chairs.

Lestrade sighed as she stared at the door of the club. Hopefully her quarry would emerge soon. Lestrade stretched her muscles from her standing there waiting. So far she hasn't seen hide or hair of anyone in the club.

She continued to lean against the post waiting for something to happen. As she stood there her thoughts clicked over to when Holmes related what happen in the tomb. It seems there was some really bad blood between the two. Lestrade wasn't sure who the bad guy in this feud was. She wanted to blame the Count. The evidence seemed to point in his direction. Everything he had done was low and cowardly.

Lestrade berated her self for falling for his charade. She should have known better than to fall for his honeyed compliments and false pretensions. It was hard to not feel like a fool when she woke up in the hotel room. She let her guard down and had to depend on a masked man to help her. A man she was sure was connected to Erika. Lestrade couldn't remember much in her drugged state except the man carried her to safety.

Lestrade owed him a debt and indirectly owed Erika. That was why she was waiting and watching. Holmes was currently trying to dig up a DNA file on Erika. He wanted to check something out. Lestrade crossed her arms as she waited. He was being very quiet about what he was thinking. When she cornered him in the hotel room, he begged off saying he needed more evidence than he had.

Lestrade sighed softly as she watched the street. It was fairly busy on this part of the Rue Scribe. Down the street was a small bazaar littered with what Lestrade was sure was illegal trade. She would love the break it up but it wasn't her jurisdiction.

She watched as a young girl ran into the club. Must be one of the dancers late for rehearsal, Lestrade shrugged to herself. She kept an eye out for her quarry. At some point, Erika had to leave the club to go home and Lestrade would follow her there.

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Nadir leaned against the doorway, masked by the shadows. He watched the Yardie closely. He knew her on sight from the dossier that he built on her. It paid to know all there was on the players of the game. After all, that was what the Phantom paid him for.

Of course, his loyalty to the Phantom wasn't about money. He smiled as he reflected on his childhood. The Khan's and the Noir's were good friends, tracing all the way back to the original tragedy. Despite what the book stated, the original Persian only wanted to stop Erik from doing something that would blow his perfect cover and the world he built. In the end, Erik still won Miss Daae's heart, only after they confront the horrible mess that they made the first time around. After that, The Noir line still stayed hidden below the Opera House, watching over it. And the Khans watched over the Noirs as it was in the beginning.

Nadir took that duty very seriously. Erika was his best friend and Nadir refuse to let her be hurt again. He often cursed himself for being fooled by the Count like Erika was. Nadir saw an end to the hostilities, not the beginning of a more deadly round of the feud. Not that Nadir cared for the De Chagny line. In fact after the brutal murder of Erik, Nadir wanted to kill the Count himself. Instead he tended to Erika's wounds, both physical and mental.

Erika blamed herself for her father's death. It was easy to see it eating away at her during the six years she went into hiding. It was during that time, she began to plan their downfall. As the De Chagny began to grow in strength in the underworld, Erika watched their movements with a predator's eye waiting to strike. Nadir smirked, she was an excellent strategist. She would strike the De Chagnies at odd moments slowly undermining their power or she did until Moriarty returned from the dead. All of the major crime families began to back Moriarty in hopes he would picked them to run the Parisian Underworld.

Erika was intrigued by the Professor much to Nadir's chagrin. He remembered the day he cemented his hold over the underworld with the theft of a few masterpieces from the Louvre. Erika was sitting in her family's antique black chair, listening to the details of the crime. She smiled slowly and proceeded to find out what she could about the man. She tried to arrange a meeting but Moriarty already headed back to England to topple their government. Erika was very disappointed that he chose to stay there and retaliated by beginning to undermine his authority in Paris.

Nadir smirked then Erika heard a whisper in the Underworld about Moriarty's ambitious plans to kidnap the President's daughter in America. The wheels were already in motion for The De Chagnies that Erika felt a need for a change in directions. She was already in hot pursuit with every intention of blowing Moriarty out of the water. Nadir had listen to the details of Erika's adventure in America and had to grin at her acting ability. She almost convinced him that she felt nothing for the Professor, that she wasn't attracted to the man. She was cool and calm about it except for the fire in her eyes whenever he came up in a conversation or rumors.

Nadir didn't like it although Moriarty was certainly a better match for her than the Count ever thought of being. Unfortunately, he was out to destroy her plans of revenge. Plans that seem to have gone greatly astray since the Count brought in the detectives and then Moriarty had to show up to defend his territory. Nadir didn't like the fact that Count knew she was alive and was now gunning for her. And now she had a tail in the form of the Yardie.

"Is she still out there, my friend?" Erika asked with a grin as she walked up to Nadir.

Nadir grumbled an assent. He should have known she would be amused by everything. Personally, He wished she would act a little more seriously about everything. He thought the attack in the crypt would have been enough to make her be more cautious. However she went forward with a grin and determined to make things work her way. Nadir sighed as he surveyed his friend. She looked pleased with this development.

"Need I remind you that the detectives will arrest you once they learn what you are up to?" Nadir stated.

Erika waved her hand, "They can most certainly try. Now has the Count's tail showed up yet? I figured he would put a watch on me."

"No, it hasn't. He just prefers to put a bounty on your head and lets others track you down." Nadir remarked sarcastically.

"Come now. If the detectives really wanted me, they would have arrested me by now. The same goes for The Professor." Erika grinned as she moved away.

"I think you put too much stock into his control." Nadir sighed remembering the few times he watched the Professor react to Erika's temptations.

Erika turned and smirked at Nadir, "He wants to kill me, Nadir. If I distract him from his task long enough, then I'm content."

Nadir was about to say something when a young redhead skidded to a halt in front of Erika. Erika smiled warmly at the breathless teen. Melissa Giry was the daughter of the old Dance mistress at the club who set up the dancing for all the numbers. Melissa took a deep breathe and looked Erika in the eye.

"Mama received a note meant for you, Miss Erika." Melissa stated solemnly.

"Who is it from?" Erika asked warily as she took the envelope.

"We are not sure, but it's from the underground."

Erika frowned as she opened it, "Merci, Melissa. I'll take care of it. Give your mama my love."

"Oui, Miss Erika"

Erika waited until Melissa ran out of the club before she pulled out the message. Her eyes scanned the message a few times. Well, Professor Moriarty certainly gets to the point. It seems the gig was up so to speak. He was calling her out for a final showdown. Erika tapped the sheet of paper against her lips as she thought of what to do.

"Well? What does it say?" Nadir asked.

"It seems the Professor has discovered the Phantom's identity and is demanding an audience with me at the Opera House."

"I don't like it." Nadir stated firmly, "You are not going."

"I don't think the man is giving me a choice. If I fail to show he will set out to kill the Phantom post haste." Erika stated amused, "It seems I really must go."

"Erika, this isn't the time for games."

"I know it isn't. But If I can keep Professor Moriarty at bay while we deal with the Count, then life will be a little easier to deal with."

"You have a lot of faith in the fact that you can handle the Napoleon of Crime."

"I think we can come to an agreement. I have a meeting to prepare for. Be a dear and keep on eye on my tail if you will, I don't want her to go anywhere. She will prove to be quite useful."

With that said, Erika walked towards the backstage area. So the Professor was stooping to threats now. Well, two can play that game. Of course, Erika wouldn't threaten him physically. It was best to let him continue to think of her as a helpless young woman running from her past. In truth Erika was done running. Now she ready to fight.

------------------

Lestrade shivered as she looked at the intimidating façade of The Opera House. Despite the afternoon sun, it still looked very formidable. However Lestrade saw Erika slip into the building, or at least she thought she did. It was every hard to tell since the figure she followed didn't look like Erika at all, but a young man. Except there was something about how he moved that didn't seem right to Lestrade.

Maybe it was the fluid, almost cat-like grace that the young man possessed or the curly brown hair that peeked out of his cap. Either way, Lestrade was suspicious and started following the man. All the way to the Opera House. Even now, As Lestrade watched him slip inside; she saw the clear blue eyes that resembled Erika's.

_You aren't losing me that easily,_ Lestrade thought to her self as she crept up the drive to the front of the theater.

Lestrade slipped inside and looked at the deserted lobby. Before in the darkness, she didn't see the various gods and goddesses from Greek and Rome Mythology scattered through the lobby or the magnificent grand staircase that show patrons to the various balconies and boxes. Lestrade gaped at the discarded beauty of the place. She couldn't understand why anyone would leave a place like this and let it rot away.

She wandered around until she reached a small hallway. A smile flitted across her lips at the faded rug and beautifully carved wall scones. A child would have a glorious time reveling in their dreams here. Lestrade reached out a hand to touch the one of the wall scones that revealed a gorgeous scene with Apollo chasing the nymph Daphne.

Two voices floated out of a near by room to her ears. They were conversing very rapidly in French. Lestrade crept towards the door they were coming from. Soon they stopped talking. Lestrade froze thinking they heard her. Her frozen state became a tense state when she heard the sound of fighting.

Erika's voice rang out loud and clear, "You can tell the Count he can find another girl to toy with. This one is done with his tricks."

The male voice made no reply. Instead she panted and grunted as its owner fought back. Lestrade pulled out her ionser and cautiously approached the door opening. The wall she was pressed against suddenly shook with the force of a body hitting it. Lestrade let out a breath and peeked around the door way.

What she saw was the closest that she ever saw to an avenging angel. Erika stood there looking disheveled from the fight. However an unholy light gleamed in her eyes. In her left hand was a slender sword. She stood ready to fight. Lestrade stepped more fully into the doorway, keeping an eye out for the other participant in the fight.

"Miss Noir…" Lestrade stated softly, before a beefy arm grabbed her.

Lestrade struggled and tried to hit her attacker. Nothing landed and he had the gall to laugh at her. Lestrade's eyes narrowed at the mocking tone in his laughter. The man twisted her wrist with the ionser and kicked it out of sight. Erika's own eyes narrowed giving them a deadly look.

"I suggest you drop your sword, Mademoiselle Noir. Or I'll slice this pretty neck." The man laughed as he pushed a vibro-knife against Lestrade's throat.

Erika stared at Lestrade for a moment. Her eyes revealed an inner struggle with in her soul. Lestrade shook her head to convey the message of not to do it. The man tightened his grip on her to prevent her from moving anymore. For an extra measure he twisted her wrist. Pain raced up her arm. Lestrade closed her eyes and bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. Erika's eyes narrowed further.

Lestrade's eye snapped open at the sound of a steel clattering against the floor. She stared at the now unarmed Erika. Erika's eyes were focused on the man who held Lestrade. The man chuckled as he pointed the knife at Erika. Lestrade noticed that the knife had a dart shooter in the hilt. Before she could stop him, he shot it at Erika's neck.

"Good night, Mademoiselle Noir." He laughed as he dragged Lestrade away.

Erika stood there in shock. Hesitantly she pulled the dart out and stared at it dumbfounded. Lestrade watched as Erika slowly walked to a desk. She pulled out a small vial of clear liquid.

"Your employer forgot that I have antidotes to all known poisons in this place." Erika grinned as she drank down the vial.

Lestrade froze as she heard Erika's voice. It wasn't light and musical as it had been the last few times she heard it. In fact this time it was darker and deeper like a man's voice. Exactly like the man's voice who rescued her from the tomb. Lestrade stared Erika in shock. Erika raised the vial in a mock salute.

Lestrade's shock gave the man the edge he needed as he threw her into a heavy wardrobe. He slammed the door on her and locked it. Lestrade was soon in case in the dark. She banged on the door with her shoulder or her legs. She stopped as she heard something shatter.

The man gloated, "It wasn't poison Mademoiselle. It was a sedative that The Count De Chagny had made that is sped up by your little herbal medicines. He knew what you were going to do. Now you have an appointment with him. Probably the last one you will ever have again."

Erika swore in a thick, drugged voice. Lestrade continued her assault on the wardrobe. However the door refused to give to her protestations. Growing tired, Lestrade finally gave in to something that she slowly realized she was going to have to do. Raising her wrist com, she radioed Holmes for help.

--------------------------------

Moriarty rubbed his eyes as he looked away from the computer screen. He had to stop being distracted from his goal. It was dangerous when you let you attention waver, no matter how pretty the distraction was. Right now that was all Erika Noir was, a distraction. He needed to concentrate on her boss, The Phantom.

Moriarty stared at the screen. His heart nearly stopped when he removed the Phantom's mask and Erika stared at him. It was unthinkable that she was the Phantom. But was he thinking that because it made her willing to be his enemy? He had to destroy the Phantom to prove he was still in charge.

But who was the Phantom? He had three suspects right now. But he didn't have proof which one was the Phantom, just assumptions and tidbits. He pulled up a picture of each person. Erika, Nadir and Ruelle appeared on the screen. Moriarty studied at each picture with a detached interest. He needed to think his way clearly through this puzzle.

When he opened his eyes they settled on Ruelle, The Count of De Chagny. Moriarty could see how Erika could fall for the handsome Count. However His eyes seem to be very cold looking. They had an icy detachment that Moriarty saw in The Phantom's Eyes that burn into him on the stage. The Count was certainly clever enough to pull off some of the Phantom's schemes and it was no secret that he wanted a more powerful role in the Underworld. The problem was Erika. The Phantom was something to Erika, like a lover or a protector. Plus it was obvious Erika despised the Count. That kind of loathing and hate wasn't the kind that one could fake. It was akin to what Moriarty felt for Holmes and Lestrade.

Moriarty shook his head Ruelle was a very unlikely candidate but there was still a possibility. Now Nadir was a stronger possibility. The Phantom was a close friend to the Noirs and Nadir seems to be that with Erika. He seemed to be watching over her every move. Moriarty also learned through the Underworld intelligence network that Nadir was trained as a very skilled fighter in several deadly forms. Nadir certainly was good at intimidating people to keep their noses clean at the club. He could easily be the Phantom except for one thing. Nadir was dealing with The Count when The Phantom stole Erika away.

This left only Miss Noir herself. Moriarty studied Erika's picture. She was the best candidate. Her eyes were the exact shade as the Phantom's with the same expressions. According to The Phantom, to kill him was to kill Erika which could only happen if they were the same person. Zed, he even caught her in the Phantom's clothes in the Theater. But the difference in their voices with no visible aid was difficult to account for. He simply couldn't explain it. Moriarty needed more information, he needed to learn more.

Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, he wracked his brain for possible answers. Nothing was forth coming. As he tried to reason things out, fatigue crept up on him. He had been working for almost twenty four hours straight, looking for his answers. He needed a rest. Slowly he lowered his head to the desk and began to lightly doze with Erika waiting in his mind.

"Master!" Fenwick shouted, causing Moriarty to shake off the last of his dream. So close he was so close to catching her.

"What is it?" Moriarty growled angered that his lackey was displaying such timing.

"There is a man on the monitor. It is the Phantom's man, that Arabian man from the club. He is demanding to speak with you." Fenwick informed.

Moriarty stared at his lackey in surprise. Nadir Khan? On the vid phone? That was odd. How did the man even get the number to this hideout? Only Moriarty's most trusted men ever knew how to reach directly. He certainly didn't trust Erika or Nadir with the number. Wanting to get to the bottom of the whole mess, Moriarty brushed by his lackey and marched to the vid phone.

Nadir's face was waiting rather impatiently. Annoyance and concern mixed in his eyes as he pinned Moriarty with a glare. Moriarty never seen the bodyguard looking more dangerous. Moriarty stopped in front of the vid phone. The two stared at each other in silences, battling silently for dominance.

"Where is she, Professor? " Nadir snapped finally.

Moriarty blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. "Excuse me?" He replied in shock.

"Erika. Where is she? What have you done to her?"

"I haven't seen Erika all day. I have been busy with work. I do run a criminal organization you know."

"I was there when she received your note to meet." Nadir growled, "She left an hour ago and hasn't been back. What did you do to her? If you have hurt her, Professor, I'll make sure you rue the day you were made."

"You can certainly try Mr. Khan. However I have not left my office all day. I certainly never made plans to meet Erika.

"It was a mutual thing. You claimed to have learned the Phantom's identity and if she refused to meet you, then the Phantom would die."

"And naturally she rushed out to save her precious Phantom." Moriarty growled viciously, "God, I hated that man."

Nadir blinked at this, "You don't know who the Phantom is?"

"No I don't. If I did I would be paying him a visit and free Erika for myself."

"So Erika isn't with you?"

"If she was, do you really think I would be talking to you?"

Nadir sighed then frowned, "This is very bad. Mon Allah, I wish she would listen to me once in a while."

"She might be where ever she was meeting me. Isn't this a problem for your Phantom to solve?"

Nadir gave Moriarty a very baleful look, "And she thought you were intelligent. The Phantom is currently MIA. And I'm at the Opera House right now. I was nearly spotted by the Detectives as they hurried out."

"So Erika was caught?"

"Not by them. They were alone." Nadir frowned as he looked off screen and groaned, as he stared at a small piece of a vial. It was jagged, showing it was shattered from a bigger bottle. Moriarty cleared his throat bringing Nadir's attention back and motioned to the vial.

Nadir frowned, fighting over how much to reveal. Finally he sighed, "It's an antitoxin. Erika has them hidden all over the place in case she is poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Moriarty repeated. Was that even a possibility? Of course it was he used poison himself to achieve a mean. It would be natural for Erika to consider poison a threat to her person. Moriarty thought to himself about the mysterious disease that was rumored her mother died by. Was she poisoned and Erika was only preventing it from happening? Was it another of the Count's tactics?

Moriarty stared at Nadir and asked his next question, "Mr. Khan, Why would Erika fear poison? Did the Count use it on her before?"

Nadir looked at him in surprise and then smiled, "I see she wasn't being too overconfident in your abilities. Oui, it is a favorite technique of the De Chagnies."

Icy chill crept up Moriarty's spine, "I think I know where Erika is. If I find her, I want an audience with the Phantom."

Nadir hesitated, "I will see it done. But where is she?"

Moriarty glared at Nadir as if to say isn't it obvious. Instead he turned and ordered Fenwick to get the hover car ready and began to recharge his ionser. He knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant task. Since when did he rescue maidens from rogues? Hell, by all rights he was a rogue himself. Attraction be damned, The De Chagnies were normally very loyal. A little voice spoke up in his ear. It reminded him that Ruelle had constantly disobeyed him when he told everyone to leave the Phantom and his lot to the Napoleon of Crime. Moriarty agreed and temporarily convinced himself he was doing this to teach Ruelle a lesson.

Moriarty looked back at a patiently waiting Nadir and stated before he cut the connection, "She is currently in the lion's den."

A/N: The question is will anyone survive it? Moriarty as the good guy looks in to her Coffee mug What the hell did Dino give me?


	13. Chapter 13

A/n: Yes I know. It only took me two years to get the last two up. I'm sorry. Here they are, the ending to Stranger Than You Dreamt It!

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 13- Dark Hopes and Dreams.

Erika woke to the smell of melted wax. Its fragrance wrapped itself around her, trying to lull her out her drugged sleep. Erika buried her face deeper into the sheet fighting the fact she had to return to the real world soon. Distantly she heard the beautiful and mysterious strains of the Moonlight Sonata being played. A smile touched her lips as she relaxed to the music. Nothing could hurt her here.

Resigned to the fact that she needed to waken from her slumber, she shifted. The satin sheets slid lazily over her body. Erika stiffened as she became aware of several things. One was she was nude under the warm sheets or very close to it. This didn't alarm her until she realized that her sheets in the underground house were made of silk. This wasn't her bed.

Suddenly it hit her as she remembered the scene the Opera House. The Count's henchman had fought her, then took the Inspector hostage. He drugged her with a sedative or was it poison. Did she die and go to the world beyond? Erika's heart jumped, she could see her sweet and gentle Papa again. All she needed to do was open her eyes.

A familiar scent of soap and spice reached her nose. Erika felt her heart speed up. She knew that scent. Slowly it crept into her system like the drug did earlier. Slowly she turned around. With every breath, she could sense his presence near her side. Finally getting up the courage she opened her eyes and fell into a pair of familiar grey ones.

Moriarty grinned predatorily at her. Erika felt her heart speed up. He finally caught her. After all their teasing and taunting each other, he finally got her. But how did she get here? Looking away from him she tried to remember what happened in that office. She nearly jumped as a hand twirled through her hair.

"I caught my little beauty." Moriarty whispered to her.

Erika turned back to him, her cheek meeting his hand, "I kind of noticed."

Moriarty grinned, "Now don't be bitter. I played your game Erika. Now you must play mine."

Erika was about to protest but his mouth covered hers in a kiss. Erika gave up trying to figure out what was going on in favor of the feeling he stirred. Lazily she kissed back as the kiss grew more passionate. Moriarty pulled away and stared at her.

"You are truly magical." He complimented her.

Erika merely smiled, "How did you find me? I thought the Count had won."

"It doesn't matter." Moriarty grinned.

Erika frowned at this, "How did I get here? The Count sent a henchman to drug and to kidnap me."

Moriarty brushed a hand over her hair unconcerned about the Count. He had his prize, let the Count find his own. Erika stared at him looking for the answers she needed. Taking a deep breathe she tried again.

"Professor, Please. If the Count knows you have interfered he will try to kill you."

Moriarty's eyes narrowed at the warning, "He isn't that stupid. He wouldn't dare defy my orders. Only one man dares to do that."

Erika's own eyes narrowed, "I will not help you kill the Phantom. I can not do it."

Moriarty growled as he grabbed her and hauled her up against, "Who the hell is this man that has such a strong hold on you?! I will pay him back for challenging me!"

Erika shouted back, "And what of me?"

"You are not leaving my sight ever!"

Before Erika could protest further, Moriarty sealed her mouth shut with another kiss. As he pulled her deeper into his embrace, Erika fell willingly. She wasn't such why but she couldn't break away from this man. Even as they endangered each other's life with this defiance, she couldn't walk away. He fired her blood in a way no one had for six long lonely years.

Even as she kissed him with all her heart, she could hear a voice deep and dark reminding her to be careful. Love is easily broken, easily lost. Erika gripped Moriarty tighter. Did she love him? Closing her eyes against unexpected pain at the thought of possibly loving him, her world went blank.

Erika winced at the pain in her arms and legs. The pain shot through her. As her mind cleared through the pain and took stock of the situation. She wasn't with The Professor. That was a dream, which meant she was still in danger. Fighting down the impulse to open her eyes and show her attackers that she was indeed awake, Erika called on her father's lessons.

Always sense how things are through your other senses rather than sight, he use to tell her. Things can be deceiving if you only rely one sense. Taking a deep breathe, she calmed her nerves. A calm mind can do more than a panicked one.

She was restrained by her wrists by rope or at least it feel like rope. She was still clothed in her partly Phantom attire that she wearing for her supposed meeting with Moriarty. Shifting ever so slightly, she felt the mask in a hidden pocket. Good, she wanted Ruelle to see what he created before she kills him. She moved her legs and was surprised that they were not tied up and felt the revolver that she wore high up on her thigh. Smiling to her self she was very happy she liked men's clothing.

Taking a deep breath, Erika opened her eyes. Instinctly she shut them against the bright white light that flooded the room. She tried again as she eyes began to adjust. Sitting up she took in the elegantly styled room. The style was similar to her own room, deep in the underground house back at the Parisian Opera House.

"I'm so glad you are awake, my dear Erika." Ruelle's voice called to her attention.

Erika turned towards his voice. Ruelle merely smiled at her outraged and hate filled look. Ruelle was lazily lounging against the fireplace in the room. He took an amused sip from his wineglass as he surveyed her appearance. Erika wanted to growled and attack him, but she knew she wouldn't get far. This was a battle of wits and wills now.

"Are you really this desperate, Ruelle?" Erika smirked as she held up her bonds.

Ruelle smiled charmingly at her, "It was the only way to have you again."

"When hell freezes over, Ruelle."

"Such manners, Erika. You use to be such a lady six years ago." Ruelle smirked as his set his glass down and stalked towards her.

"I save my manners for true gentlemen, not rapists and murderers." Erika spat at him.

"Like who? The Napoleon of Crime?" Ruelle laughed, "Oui he is quite the gentleman. Tell me Erika what does he charge for his protection?"

"I don't need his protection from slime like you!" Erika growled, "You always were a coward. What's the matter? The Inspector grew wise to your schemes?"

"She will come around again. I'm sure of it." Ruelle grinned as he stalked towards the bed, "But right now, I would like to get reacquainted with you."

Erika's eyes went dark and dangerous, "Don't even touch me Ruelle. You will regret it."

Ruelle smiled at her in a way that made Erika's skin crawl. As he reached out to touch her cheek, Erika batted his hand away. Her blue eyes gleamed with a challenging fire. Ruelle merely smiled, pleased with her response to him.

"It is nice to see you still have fire." Ruelle grinned as he stopped in front of her, "I always preferred you with fire."

"I would prefer slipping my sword between your ribs." Erika growled.

"Temper, temper." Ruelle chuckled as his gazed raked over her, "Although it suits you very well. I believe I will enjoy this."

Erika twisted against the rope around her hands, "Touch me, Ruelle and I'll make sure you pay."

Ruelle eyes blazed brightly, "I don't fear the Napoleon of Crime. He can't care about you too much. After all, your family doesn't exist at all. By sunset tomorrow that little deception will be a reality."

Erika scooted away to put distance between them She needs to think and fast. There had to be something she could do to distract him. Then she'll have enough time to form a plan. Now her life hung in the balance.

Suddenly it was too late as Ruelle's hand closed around her arm. Erika felt something dark inside her begin to well up. Spurred by it she began to struggle against Ruelle's hold. She heard him grunt as her blows began to land. Erika pulled one of her legs back and hard a hard kick on his stomach.

Ruelle staggered back from the blow. His brown eye began to glow with an unholy fire as he stared at her. Erika brought her breathing back under control. She refused to show him her fear. Ruelle started chuckling as if he found her resistance funny. Erika quirked an eyebrow as she made sure there was enough distance between them.

"I should have expected a fight from you." Ruelle smirked, "You were interesting in this position."

Erik snarled at him, "I'm not yours any more Ruelle. I would rather die first."

"That can be arranged but I'm going to give you that. I think you owe me a few things first. After all I was your first love."

Erika spat at him, "The Professor is more of a man than you ever were. You might have been my first but you certainly were not the best. I believe The Napoleon of Crime holds that honor."

Ruelle growled before he lunged at her a second time. Erika realized she made a huge miscalculation. She should have waited until her hands were free. Erika struggled viciously against Ruelle. He couldn't win, not now not ever.

Distantly she heard the sound of fabric ripping. Alarming she fought back ever more viciously. She wouldn't surrender. Deep in her mind she felt something straining to be free. Desperately she tried to control as it strained against the leash she had on it.

Ruelle noticed her eyes become darker as if she was becoming another person. It surprised him enough that she was able to swing her faces across his face like a club. Ruelle turned with the hit, surprised by the strength behind it. Obviously he was being too gentle.

When he turned back, he stared at Erika intensely. Erika glared back at him. The two combatants stared at each other for several minutes. Neither one moved as they reassessed each other and looked in their minds for a way to win.

"Master De Chagny?" The old voice of the De Chagny's butler called through the shut door.

Yes?" Ruelle asked never taking his eyes from Erika.

"There is a messenger waiting downstairs from a Professor."

Relief washed over Erika, a reprieve. She wasn't so naive to think that James Moriarty was looking for her. She smiled at Ruelle as if to say I win. Ruelle frowned deeply at her. Then he smiled at her.

"I'll be right down. Are all the servants gone for the day?" Ruelle asked.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Go home your self. I will not need anything else to day."

"Very good sir." The butler stated as he shuffled away.

"Now there will be no one to hear you scream out, chère. After I dispose of Moriarty's little helper, I will return to finish this. I won't have long. I believe I'll set the timer to an hour. That will be as long as I will need."

Erika gave him a puzzled look, "Timer?"

Ruelle grinned insanely at her, "Why on the explosives that are scattered around this house. After I have you, I can't leave any evidence of my crime. Too many people will be after me. But don't worry; I'll take care of your friends at the club. I don't need Khan hunting me down while I enjoy the rest of my life. "

Erika gaped at him in shock. Ruelle merely smiled at her. Before Erika couldn't see what he was up to, his fist rammed into her temple. Erika's head moved with the force of the hit and banged against one of the posts on the bed.

Erika's mind blanked out. Distantly she heard Ruelle's laughter ring through her darkened mind. She had to get away. She couldn't black out now. Desperately, she tried to fight against the darkness that began to swirl around her thoughts. Soon The inky darkness closed over her as Ruelle shut the door and locked it to the bedroom.

--

Moriarty listened absently as Fenwick tried to distract the Count through the ear piece. His eyes scanned each room as he hurried through the guest wing of the De Chagny manor. He knew Erika was in here somewhere and so was his chance to meet the Phantom.

As he moved through the deserted corridor he found a locked door. Quickly, Moriarty dropped to his knees and began to pick the lock. In his ear he could hear the Count and Fenwick start arguing with each other over the recent drop in cigarette sale. Moriarty smirked at how forceful his lackey sounded when the door swung open.

Moriarty cautiously entered the room. It was easy to see that this was the Count's own bedroom. Soon his eyes settled on the heap on the bed. His eyes widen at the sight of long curly brown hair. Moving quickly he strode toward the vulnerable figure on the bed. His one thought was he was too late.

Erika was sprawled out. Her shirt was ripped down the center revealing the bullet wound she received six years ago. A small cut on her temple produced a small stream of blood down the side of her face. Her skin was pale and cold as Moriarty tried to check her pulse.

His fingers found a strong beat. A sense of relief went through the Napoleon of Crime as he tried to wake the young singer. In his ear, he could hear the discussion downstairs drawing to a close. Urgency filled him that he scooped Erika up and hurried out with her laying limply in his arms.

As he hurried down the hallway, he felt her stir in his arms. Ducking into an alcove, He looked down at her. Erika's eyes fluttered opened and she groaned at the pain in her head. Moriarty clamped a hand over her mouth. Erika's eye went wide and she began to struggle.

"Stop that! It's me." Moriarty whispered harshly gaining Erika's attention and her cooperation, "The Count is coming back up and when he finds you gone, all hell is going to break loose."

Erika batted his hand away, "Why are you here?"

"I made Nadir a deal. I retrieve you and I get an audience with the Phantom." Moriarty growled as he gripped her wrist.

"Such a romantic reason, Professor." Erika taunted as he yanked her back down the hallway.

"I'm full of them." Moriarty growled as he pulled her after him.

"I'm sure. I can walk on my own you know." Erika stated firmly as she yanked her hand back, "I had enough of being roughly handled for one day."

"Then you better keep up." Moriarty remarked as he continued on.

Erika hurried to keep up. Occasionally she glanced over her shoulder when she heard the Count's cry of outrage. Looking at Moriarty he heard it too. Roughly he grabbed her wrist again and pulled her along more quickly.

Erika was about to protest when the wall next to her shatter from the impact of a bullet. She looked back to she see Ruelle chasing them with a crazed look in his eyes, before they disappeared around another corner. Erika knew that look only too well. That was the look she saw when her father died.

"The fool. He doesn't know who he is messing with." Moriarty mumbled sending a chill through Erika's heart. Her father muttered the exact words when the Count stepped forward to challenge them. She lost her father that day. Looking at Moriarty, she realized she was about to lose him too. Everything was happening all over again.

Something deep in her soul began to tug free again. She could hear a voice in her head say _we can change it. _Erika made a plan as she followed Moriarty deeper into the maze of the De Chagny manor.

"No! This way I know a faster way out!" Erika shouted as she yanked back on Moriarty's hand with surprising strength.

Moriarty looked at her in surprise but didn't protest as Erika yanked him down a darker hallway. Erika quickened her pace, she knew he must live. She couldn't bear for another person to die in her place. Her eyes darted around until she found the alcove and pulled him in.

Moriarty watched as her finger searched the wall for something. There was a panicked quality to her movements. Moriarty realized that she frightened of what was happening. As her finger tripped the trigger, he spun her around. Fear was reflected in her blue eyes.

"Why are you scared?" Moriarty demanded.

"Please, Professor, this isn't the time. We must get you to safety." Erika shot back.

"I'm not the one in danger. You are."

"We are all in danger if we stay here arguing. Ruelle has this place wired to explode in one hour. Then he is going to kill everyone who knows about me."

Moriarty paused as he absorbed that information, "What are you saying?"

Erika hurried to the mouth of the alcove and listened. Satisfied they were alone she hurried back and gripped Moriarty's shirt. Moriarty stiffened as the dream from a few days ago flitted through his mind. Moriarty gripped her arms tightly ready to move her in case of gunshots. Erika began to push him back.

Erika pleaded softly recapturing his attention, "He will kill everyone he knows is involved with my life. Nadir, the Detectives, you, and my friends in the club are all in danger. He wants to wipe my memory from this world."

Moriarty felt the need to assure her, "Erika, he won't harm you again. I swear it."

Erika smiled sadly at him, "Oui. He won't harm anyone I care about ever again. I will make sure of it."

Moriarty looked at her, "I will take care of it Erika. I'll make sure he doesn't bother anyone again."

Erika shook her head," No. The Underground needs you more than it does me. I had hoped I could continue to play cat and mouse with you. However Fate has handed us a new set of cards."

Moriarty scowled down at her, "I had enough of this cryptic non sense."

Erika smiled at him as she maneuvered him in to position, "You were right on the roof top that night. I'm sorry. But I enjoyed the time we had stolen together."

Moriarty searched her face but as he began to piece together the puzzle. Erika merely smiled as she brushed her lip over his in a parting kiss. Moriarty stiffened then relaxed as he went to deepen the kiss. Erika saw her opening and shoved him straight into the passage that had opened behind him.

Moriarty stumbled back as Erika reached up and hit the trigger that shut the passage. The tragic look on her face told him what she was going to do. With a roar he launched himself at the shutting door only to be seconds too late.

Moriarty blinked at the thought he was just outmaneuvered by a woman. Torn between outrage and concern he began to try and force his way through the door. Erika listened for a few moments before speaking.

"Please Professor you must hurry. Follow the passage out." Erika shouted.

"Get your arse in here in Erika. You will not confront that madman alone!" Moriarty raged through the door.

"I'm sorry, James." Erika stated softly using his Christian for the first time, "But I must end this. The Underground needs you now. I will never forget you."

Erika hurried away. She paused at the mouth of the alcove and looked back at the wall. Gently she wiped away a lone tear before going back to confront the Mad Count and end it all.

--

Lestrade followed Holmes closely as they entered the Manor. Gently she traced the edge of the ionser on her hip. She couldn't shake off the feeling of foreboding in her gut, but somehow the ionser seem to stop it from growing. Cautiously she looked around.

Holmes noticed how empty the house was. There were no servants or butler to greet them. Was it possible the Count had taken Erika to another location? Looking around he could tell something wasn't right.

"Sherlock, I don't like this." Lestrade stated firmly.

"We are agreed on that point, my dear Lestrade." Holmes stated as they moved closer to the main staircase.

Lestrade merely nodded. Her sense of urgency began to build up inside her. She glanced around looking for some sign of life. Nothing seemed to move but her and Holmes. Trying to look composed, she rested her hand against the ionser on her hip.

Holmes could feel the tension in Lestrade next to him. He knew she was feeling nervous. As he looked around the empty foyer, he couldn't blame her. Something wasn't right here. He gripped his stick tightly as he began to make his way up the stairs.

Holmes just set his foot on the fourth step when he heard it. He and Lestrade froze together. They stood in shock at the sounds. Holmes look at Lestrade as if convey some sort of message.

Suddenly three more gunshots were heard. They echoed across the empty house. Soon the stench of blood began to waft through the air. Holmes nodded to Lestrade who drew her ionser. They turn to run up the stairs when a figure appeared at the top.

Holmes turned fully to protect Lestrade from the aim of the gun. The Count grinned sarcastically at the Great Detective. Blood spattered his clothing. Feeling powerful he began to walk down the staircase. Holmes began to back up. He knew the Count had the advantage.

Lestrade spoke up, "Where is Erika?"

Ruelle grin got bigger as he leveled the gun at them, "You know the old adage. Ding dong, the Witch is dead."


	14. Chapter 14

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 14 – Night Reborn.

Lestrade swallowed hard as she stared at Ruelle. His smile was cold and dark sending chills up her spine. The Count trained his gun on Holmes. The two sized each other up. Lestrade remembered how they seem to dislike each other on sight. Now Ruelle had the upper hand.

Holmes merely stared at the man in front of him. He had to bid his time until Ruelle gave him an opening.  Holmes knew it he messed up They were both dead. Anyone could see the Count wasn't playing with a full deck at that moment. Holmes cleared his throat, making sure he had Ruelle's full attention.

"So she is died now?" Holmes queried keeping his eyes locked with the Count's.

The Count smirked triumphantly, "Her line is now dead complete with three bullet holes. I must thank you for finding her."

Lestrade blinked, "You used us to find her?"

Holmes nodded, "He had no choice. Erika obviously knew he was hunting her down. She knew his men and his methods. After all she was your lover. She knew you better than any other woman would. Which is why you tried to kill her six years ago."

"Very good M'sieur Holmes. Your reputation is well received. I had set out that night to kill her. I arranged a meeting with her outside the cemetery on the Rue Scribe. I had her dangling for weeks about our possible engagement. Like an eager child, she came. It was suppose to be so easy and simple. I just had to shoot her. Except her father followed and watched nearby. Erik was always worried about his daughter. He never once worried about himself. He should have that night." Ruelle growled.

Lestrade realized, "Erik jumped in front of the gun. He protected her."

Ruelle's eyes went dark as if in a memory as he spoke, "Oui, the damn fool did. He should have fallen with that first shot. But he just kept coming, so I kept shooting. When Erik finally fell, Erika launched herself at me swinging. I fired my last shot." The Count sighed, "Too bad it only hit her shoulder."

Holmes held his cane ready, "All because she knew too much and you wanted to marry another."

Ruelle shrugged carelessly, "My title must come first. Besides she was a Noir woman. She deserved to die, like Christine Daae did. How dare they choose The Phantom over more respectable blood lines!"

Lestrade glared at The Count, "And now what?"

"It is so simple. I won the war. Now I just need to cover my tracks before I fade away into the Switzerland horizon. With the money I stole through the cigarette trade, I can live very comfortably. I just need to tie up a few loose ends." Ruelle stated firmly.

Lestrade glanced at Holmes, "You are going to kill us then."

"Of course. After all, you know my secret. But don't worry, you won't be alone.  You see Erika's friends will look for me. They won't stop until they find me. So I need to get rid of them first." Ruelle grinned insanely as he aimed the gun at Sherlock's heart, "Good bye M'sieur Holmes."

Lestrade watched as Ruelle took aim. He wasn't looking at her. Lestrade knew he thought she won't do any thing to him.  Running towards him, she knew she was only going to get one shot at this.  Lestrade braced herself as she barreled towards Ruelle full force.

 Holmes watched as Lestrade rammed into the Count knocking his aim off. Taking advantage of the distraction his partner caused, Holmes ducked away from the direction the barrel of the gun was pointing making his way closer to the two wrestling figures.

The Count struggled against The Inspector's grip on the gun. He couldn't lose now. He almost won. Desperately, he looked at the clock to see there was only twenty minutes left on the timer.  He had to get rid of them and soon. Then he saw his opening.

Lestrade had to get the gun away. She had to stop him from shooting her partner. As they grunted and struggled, she was sure she was winning. Then she glanced up the stair. A figure lurched forward awkwardly in the shadows along the railing. Lestrade concentrate on the gun was broken as she tried to see whom it was.

The Count dipped low and caught Lestrade in the stomach. Lestrade grunted as her grip on the weapon was weakened. Ruelle grabbed her wrist and flung her towards Holmes. Holmes couldn't move in time to dodge as Lestrade sailed right in to him. Holmes caught her as they both went flying backwards on to the ground. Holmes twisted himself to cushion the fall to ground.

The two detectives hit the ground hard. Before they could get up, the sound of the gun's safety being cocked back. Lestrade stared into Holmes's eyes as if to say sorry. Holmes merely hugged her close as they faced the Count. Ruelle aimed the gun at them, delight danced in his eyes.

"Nice try, Detectives." The Count grinned, "But nothing can save you now."

A tenor voice spoke up behind Ruelle, "Is that so M'sieur?"

Ruelle turned to face this new player. Holmes watched as silver flashed through the air blocking the bullet.  Before Ruelle could squeeze off another shot, the figure lunged forward. Ruelle gave a strangled cry as a sword went straight through his body. Holmes and Lestrade watched in horror as Ruelle fell to his knees. The sword was pulled back out but the detectives just stared at the dying Count.

Ruelle gasped his last breathe, "But I won. How did you survive?"

The figure merely stated, "You can't kill what you can't understand."

Holmes and Lestrade looked up at their savior. The figure watched impassively as Ruelle finally expired. Still shielded by the shadows the figure seemed to hesitate before limping towards the dead Count.

Slowly Holmes got to his feet with Lestrade. He watched the figure cautiously as they limped forward. Holmes could tell the wound was high up, possibly the thigh area. The ragged breathing indicated they were in a lot of pain as they moved. His eyes glanced as the blood stained sword and he recalled how fast the person moved to deflect the bullet. Obviously they were use to pain.

The figure stopped by the fallen gun. Slowly they bent into the light to pick it up. Holmes stared in disbelief. The white shirt was ripped in several spots and stained crimson red. The figure's blue eyes stared right into his as its finger closed around the gun. Holmes couldn't believe that she spoke in that voice.

Lestrade spoke first as she stood, "You're dead."

Erika smirked as she calmly held the gun, "You never saw my body. So that was a very naïve assumption."

Lestrade bristled at that remark, but Holmes realized their situation hadn't changed, "I see you now hold us hostage."

"In a sense. The night is closing in on me." Erika stated firmly, the tenor's edge in her voice, "I'm sure you have questions."

Holmes nodded feeling more relaxed, "I do."

Lestrade glanced disbelievingly at Holmes. How can he be so calm when she had a gun on them? Erika leaned against the banister as she waited for Holmes's first question. She was still bleeding in many spots. Her color was pale, which wasn't good. She must be on the brink of death.

"I suggest M'sieur Holmes, you ask them quickly. Time is very short." Erika prompted.

"Miss Noir, Maybe we should get you to the Hospital?" Lestrade stated.

"No, It's too late for that." Erika stated flatly as she pointed the gun at Lestrade, "Perhaps I should start first."

Erika took a deep breathe. This was it, her chance to reveal to whole story. Leaning heavily on the banister for balance, she gazed almost vacantly at her two guests. The past Slowly began to rush into her mind.

"I was born 26 years ago. My Momma and Papa were so happy but they knew the dangers to my family so we hide away from the world. Soon Momma grew sick and died. It broke my Papa's heart. He cried for days. I learned later that she was poisoned. My father's dearest friend Moses Khan found out." Erika began to tell them.

"Then why did you become involved with one of your enemies?" Lestrade asked.

Erika Laughed humorlessly, "I was young and infinitely stupid. He swore he was different and that he wanted peace between us. I wanted to believe him and I did. Hell Even my father wanted peace. He was tired of all the fighting. It cost him his mother, father and wife. That is a very high price for revenge. Of course The Count never wanted peace. My seduction was another step in the war. He took away everything from me that night he showed me the truth. My Father, my innocence and my faith in justice."

"So you swore revenge on him. That's why you killed his brother." Holmes prompted.

"I had six years to plan my revenge. I watched as he grew more powerful. And Don't think His brother was an innocent. He was just as bad as Ruelle. He would Brag about how he helped destroy the Phantom." Erika smirked evilly, "Play with Fire and you will get burned. If you expect me to cry over his death, I'll have to shatter that illusion. For six years I sabotaged the Underworld's dealing. Paris allowed The Count to walk away. Well, It was payday."

Erika steadied her grip on the gun as she continued her story, "I put my father's training to use. He was grooming me to become the Phantom. Ruelle reinforced to me what becoming the Phantom meant. We donned the Mask to survive. We became ghosts, hidden from the world and its cruelties. According to your computers I don't exist and that is what Allowed me to live as long as I have."

Lestrade glanced at Holmes before remarking, "Why did you trust us?"

"Oh But I did. I gave you all the clues you needed." Erika smiled, "and you pieced them together beautifully."

Holmes nodded, "You send us the notes on all those other cases. You kept sabotaging Moriarty and his Paris connections."

"I was making my bid for the Underground. It worked rather well." Erika sighed, "Sadly all game must end."

Lestrade glanced at Holmes. A silent message was conveyed between them. Lestrade reached for her ionser as Holmes ready his cane. Erika pushed away from the banister and started laughing wildly. The Detectives paused in their motion to stare at the laughing dying woman. Erika grinned evilly as she leveled the gun at Lestrade.

"Nice try, Inspector, Detective, But This game won't end in an arrest."

"We aren't leaving without you in custody." Lestrade warned her.

"You need medical attention and while you might not believe in Justice we do." Holmes confirmed.

Erika merely shrugged, "A Pity then."

Erika aimed at Lestrade. Before Lestrade could move, the gun went off. Lestrade stared shocked as she gazed into Erika's hardened eyes. Lestrade staggered back as the bullet impacted with her right shoulder. Erika merely squeezed off the second shot. Lestrade fell to the floor as it slammed into her leg. Lestrade was down. Her vision began to darken as the pain took over.

Holmes stood immobilized by shock at his partner being down. He wanted to rush to Lestrade side, But Erika was still Armed. Erika Lowered her weapon. Her breathing was quick and shallow. Holmes noticed her color was completely gone.

"You have a choice, Holmes. Arrest me or save her. You have five minutes until this whole place explodes to make you choice. You can't save us both." Erika Stated.

"You are a very clever woman, Erika." Holmes commended her.

"Take her, Holmes. Take her and forget me. Forget all you seen." Erika whispered.

Holmes nodded as he walked over and lifted up Lestrade, "You knew my choice."

Erika smiled in a bright and childish way, "Life is too short, M'sieur Holmes. Treasure her. She is rare indeed."

"Is there anything I can do to persuade you to come with us?" Holmes asked.

Erika sat on the stairs, tiredly, "No This is my destiny. Go on. Forget me."

Holmes stared at the tired figure on the stairs. Her face was lined with fatigue as she closed her eyes. Holmes took a step towards her to try and plead with her. Erika stared at him in hard way and stood.

Erika growled, "GO. Leave me. Forget me. Forget all this. Forget all you have seen. Go Now! Before this place explodes."

Holmes stepped back at the show of anger before he could argue any more. A huge bang shook the foyer. Several more sounded in succession. Erika stood calmly among them as she stared at him. Holmes began to retreat as the room nearby exploded, spewing fire and debris between him and Erika. In the glow of the approaching fire, Erika stood like a defiant queen. Holmes gave her a look of admiration and respect before he ran from the house of death.

Holmes began to run for the door with Lestrade in his arms. He needed to get her to safety before the whole place exploded. He could feel the flame lick at his heels as he reached the door. He turned to take one last look at Erika.

Erika caught his gaze and shouted one last order at him, "Swear to me never to tell the secret you know of the angel in hell. Go now and leave me!!"

Holmes felt the need to shout back, "I swear, Erika."

Just then another room exploded and Sherlock jumped into the warm afternoon sun. He ran as fast as he could as the fire vehicles pulled up. Few medics swarmed around Lestrade checking her vitals and dressing her wounds. Holmes watched as they wheeled her away assuring him she was fine.  Suddenly a deafening roar reached his ear. Holmes turned around as the manor collapsed into a mass of flames. He heard what one of the firefighters said about no one being able to survive.

"I hope you found your peace, Erika." Holmes whispered before climbing into the emergency vehicle with the unconscious Lestrade. The whole ride into the hospital, he gripped her hand, remembering Erika's advice about Lestrade.

--

A few days later, Lestrade was finally resting comfortably in a New London Hospital.  She frowned over a logic puzzle book that the Irregulars brought her. After dealing with the Surete's questions and French doctors, Lestrade was happy to be home. Granted, Leroux took care of most of Surete business for them. He apologized that she had gotten hurt. Something that all of Erika's friends wanted to avoid that happening.

Lestrade merely nodded at that. She remembered Erika's eyes as she shot. There was no light in them as she squeezed the trigger twice. Lestrade often shuddered as she thought of it. It was scary to stare in the face of a person who had no feelings left. Lestrade often wondered if she was at fault. A clue she missed. Maybe she should have been faster or smarter.

Lestrade began sinking into such thoughts when Holmes walked in. Lestrade looked up at her partner. He didn't talk much about what happened after she was shot only that Erika told him to go. Lestrade often felt he was hiding something. However she didn't ask. She would rather forget Paris.

Holmes watched Lestrade closely. She was recovering nicely. Not for the first time, He wondered if Erika planned it that way when she shot at her. Lestrade tried to ask what happened after she blacked out. Holmes wasn't sure what to tell her. Erika got them both out and taught him a lesson. Life was indeed too short for nonsense. He only wished they could have saved Erika too. But her fate would have been a lifetime in prison. Erika must have known and chosen death.

Holmes sat in the chair next to Lestrade's bed. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Leroux had phoned him this morning with the final report on the De Chagny case. It was unsettling to say the least, yet somehow Holmes expected no less of this affair. Holmes gazed into Lestrade's violet gaze. He took comfort that Erika gave him the chance to see those eyes again.

"I have the final report from the Surete." Holmes sighed.

Lestrade tensed then relaxed, "Is she?"

"Her body wasn't found. The Count's body was, charred beyond recognition, but that was the only remains found." Holmes informed her, "She is still out there. Alive or dead is the real question."

"She is alive, Holmes. I know it."

"I think so too. She was too strong to lie down and die that easily. But it is in everyone interest if she presumed dead."

"How so?"

"If she dead, we won't be able to look for her nor would anyone else. There is a new plaque in her family's tomb. Let it go, Lestrade."

"I'm not sure if it's that easy."

Holmes put a hand on hers and squeezed it gently, "We'll do it together."

Lestrade looked up into Holmes's eyes. What did happen in the house to bring about a change between them? Lestrade gripped his hand back. They did nothing but look at each other for the first time in a long time, which is how Watson and The Irregulars found them when they came for a visit.

--

Moriarty turned up his collar on the great coat as he entered the Noir tomb. Everything was silent on the Underground on the Phantom. Ever since the explosion, Paris has been holding it breath. No one knew where the Phantom was or Erika Daae. The club claimed she was on vacation. However Moriarty suspected the worse.

He should have broken through the door. He had left after a half an hour of pounding, after he heard the shots. Never had gunfire caused his blood to run cold but it did that day. He ran with the intent of going through the front door.  Instead the place exploded.

He watched in shock as the place came down. Erika was still inside, injured and weak. She sacrificed herself to protect him, something no one had ever done for him before. The Underground was a place where everyone was out for themselves. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Yet this woman who claimed to have no mercy left, saved him. That was something Moriarty wouldn't forget ever, even if he wanted to.

He walked into tomb. Before it felt forbidding and mysterious, now it was a bit warmer and welcoming. His grey eyes swept over the different name plaques until it settled on the newest one. Moriarty walked up to it slowly reading the name: _Erika Aria Noir, Beloved Daughter and Friend, May she have found peace._

There were no dates on the plaque but that didn't bother Moriarty so much as what it confirmed. His possible queen was dead. Reining in his emotions, he laid a bouquet of white roses on the flower holder. It was the least he could do, he would prefer to present them to the living person, but she was gone. No more taunting, teasing, No more near seductions from a brown haired blue eyed beauty. She was taken away by her own sense of honor.

Moriarty touched the name Erika as he spoke to her ghost, "You were my equal, Erika. No woman ever was before. May you finally rest happily."

There was no response. A slight chill filled the tomb. Moriarty dropped his hand, vowing to visit her when he was in Paris. He was going to continue her fight. There were a few De Chagny cousins flitting around. Moriarty grinned evilly. He could rein them in tightly and pound this feud out their heads. He paused and looked back at the tomb. He owed her that much for saving his life.

Finally he walked away. After all he had a criminal empire to run and Erika would have been the first to teasingly remind him about it. He was going to make it the best ever, no more rebellions. He walked forwarded into the dying light with a determine step. He never looked back and saw the shadowy of Nadir gather up his flowers and disappear again.

Nadir sighed in relief as he slipped back through the secret passage in the tomb. That was close, he wasn't expecting the Napoleon of Crime to show up. But he was there with flowers for Erika. Jumping in to the boat, he began to row down the underground lake.

As he glided along the smooth surface of the lake, he remembered the scene inside the quickly burning up De Chagny Manor when he finally got in. It took him a few minutes to figure what Moriarty was up to. However, Nadir's first concern was protecting his best friend Erika at all costs. He barely made it out alive

He docked the boat outside the unassuming house built into the wall. After securing the boat, Nadir carefully picked up the budding bouquet and entered the house. The interior was beautifully decorated with furniture from the years gone by. Nadir quickly walked past them and entered the kitchen area.

Danash was bustling about making food for their dinner. His honey eyes met Nadir with love and affection. Nadir smiled lovingly and his boyfriend before planting a kiss on his temple. Nadir Walked to a shelf and pulled out a vase of the flowers. Danash's eye fell to the flowers.

"Oh Nadir, You can't put those in that ugly vase. Roses deserve a Waterford. I see the vendor made more money off of you." Danash stated firmly as he pulled out a carved Waterford Crystal vase.

Nadir sighed as he turned the roses over to Danash, "I didn't buy them, Danash. We have enough flowers down here anyways."

"Then who did?"

"The Professor paid a visit to the tomb. He brought the flowers." Nadir remarked casually, "I figured he would be by sooner or later."

"What a nice gesture. She will love them." Danash smiled softly.

"Did she wake up yet?" Nadir asked hopefully.

"No, But my father always told me they can hear you. Take them into her. I'll have dinner ready soon."

Nadir nodded as he took the vase. Walking down the hallway he approached the fable Louis-Phillip room. Slowly opening the door, he slipped into the Victorian room. His eyes settled on the sleeping figure in the black bed. Ayesha was curled up next to her lovingly, obviously keeping a vigil over her companion.

He walked forward and placed the vase right next to bed. Erika was laid out like Sleeping Beauty. Her breathing was slow and steady. A simple chain and golden ring hung around her neck, a simple promise to continue the family tradition. Nadir smiled it was also a promise to never give up.

Nadir sat on the bed and touched his best friend's hand. For three weeks she slept without stirring. Nadir often worried if she was just going to slip away one day, lured by her father's spirit. Every time he thought that, he remembered the ring she continued to wear and he no longer worried. Now he had something else to give her to fight.

Softly Nadir told Erika's sleeping form about Moriarty's visit. He didn't trust The Napoleon of Crime but he did respect the man. Nadir learned he tried to save Erika and Nadir could respect that. Nadir knew Erik would definitely approve of James Moriarty. Nadir sighed as he finished his report. Erika continued to sleep peacefully. Then Nadir felt the softest of squeezing on his hand.

Nadir smiled, "Rest, little sister. You have all the time in the world."

Nadir got up and let go of Erika's hand. He plucked the youngest bud from the vase. After stripping it off its thorns, He placed it next to Erika's hand and Walked to the door. When he looked back Erika's hand was closed around the rose. Nadir smiled, Danash was right. They do listen. Nadir turned off the light and left The Phantom to rest and dream of better times.


End file.
